V 


$ 


SEP  20  1910 
•26/CAL 


Division  D3710 

f-mn  ."R(o 


Section 


/ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/chinaasisawitwomOOroea 


CHINA  AS  I SAW  IT 


Frontispiece.  TEMPLE  AT  TENG-CHEO-FU. 


CHINA 


AS  I SAW  IT 


A WOMAN’S  LETTERS  FROM 
THE  CELESTIAL  EMPIRE 


A.  S.  ROE 


WITH  39  ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 
1910 


BY 


Printed  in  Great  Britain 


FOREWORD 


I should  like  to  take  this  opportunity  of  expressing 
my  thanks  to  those  who,  either  consciously  or  un- 
consciously, have  helped  in  the  “ making  ” of  this 
book. 

Amongst  the  former  I would  include  those  who 
have  permitted  me  to  use  their  sketches  and  photo- 
graphs, and  amongst  the  latter  the  members  of  the 
China  Inland  and  other  missions  through  whose 
hospitality  we  were  enabled  to  stay  in  places  where 
native  accommodation  would  have  been  worse  than 
indifferent,  and  to  whose  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
language  and  the  people  we  owe  much  of  the  interest 
of  our  travels  and  their  comparative  freedom  from 
dangers  and  difficulties. 


CONTENTS 


PACK 


Shanghai  ( May  27 th,  1907) 

• 

1 

Chefoo  (June  20 th) 

17 

Teng-Cheo-Fu  (September  10 th)  . 

3i 

Chefoo  (October  10 th)  . 

5° 

Peking  (October  18 th,  1907) 

60 

Hankow  (November  10th , 1907)  . 

82 

Ichang  (November  28 th) 

99 

On  the  Upper  Yangtse  (December  3rd)  . 

no 

Ch’ong  King  (January , 1908) 

M5 

On  the  Main  Road  between  Ch’ong  King  and  Chentu 
( January , 1908)  . . ... 

158 

Chentu  (February) 

176 

On  the  River  Min  (February,  1908) 

201 

Gankin  (March,  1908) 

229 

Chefoo  .... 

236 

Huai  Luh  (September,  1908) 

248 

Ping  Yao  (October  28 th) 

274 

Nanking  (December,  1908) 

293 

Hangcheo  (January,  1909) 

3°3 

Shanghai  (February,  1909) 

■ 

322 

vii 


Index 


• 329 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PACING  PAGP. 

The  Shanghai  “Hansom”  . ...  2 

A Common  Sight  in  China  . ...  2 

Teng-Cheo-Fu  . . ...  30 

A Girls’  School  at  Teng-Cheo-Fu  . 42 

Mule  Litter  . . . 52 

Entrance  to  British  Legation,  Peking  . . 64 

Temple  of  Heaven,  Peking  . . 70 

Entrance  to  Lama  Temple,  Peking  . . .72 

Lama  Temple,  Peking  . . . . 80 

Grotesque  Gods  . . ...  88 

In  the  Yangtse  Gorges  . . . .112 

Tong  Lin  Rapid  . . . . . 114 

Chin  Rapid  . . . . 120 

Trackers  pulling  a Boat  up  the  Rapids  . .138 

Typical  Street  . . . . 146 

Riverside  Houses  at  Ch’ong  King  . . .146 

Two  Members  of  our  Military  and  Civil  Escort  . 166 

On  the  Road  to  Chentu  . . . . 166 

Portable  Kitchen  . . . . . 184 

New  Year  Salutations  . ...  184 

Temporary  Dam,  Kuan  Hsien  . . . . 194 

Artificial  Gorge  . . . . . 194 

Pagoda  and  Village  on  the  Yangtse  . . . 208 

Embankment  of  Bamboo  Baskets 


212 


List  of  Illustrations 


FACING  PAGE 

Bridal  Pair  at  Ch’ong  King  Wedding  . . .216 

Shi  Pao  Temple  on  the  Yangtse  . . . 224 

Wu-Pan  on  the  Yangtse  . ...  224 

A Mandarin  with  his  Attendants  . . . 230 

South  Gate  at  Tai  Y(3en  Fu  . . . . 254 

Pagodas  at  Tai  YOen  Fu  ...  268 

A Shansi  Inn  . . ...  274 

A Shansi  Cart  . . ...  284 

Avenue  of  Stone  Animals,  Nanking  . . . 296 

Stone  Figures,  Nanking  . ...  298 

Five-roofed  Bridge  at  Yangcheo  . . . 300 

Western  Lake,  Hangcheo  . ...  306 

Tower  of  the  Thundering  Peak,  Hangcheo  . . 308 

Our  Boat  on  the  Tsien  Tang  River  . . . 318 

Tailor  in  Ba  Kiao  Ts'i’s  House  . . .318 


CHINA  AS  I SAW  IT 


Shanghai, 

May  ijth,  1907. 

Dear  Joan, 

Here  we  are  actually  in  China,  but  it  is  un- 
commonly difficult  to  realise.  Imagine  yourself  trans- 
ported hither  on  the  magic  carpet  of  the  Arabian 
Nights.  You  wonder,  perhaps,  where  you  are.  Cross- 
j ing  a magnificent  bridge  over  a river  that  consists 
half  of  brown  mud  and  half  of  brown  boats — junks 
and  sampans — you  stray  into  beautiful  gardens  of 
velvet  lawns  and  bright  flower-beds  in  which  are 
English  children  and  English  nurses.  There  is  even 
an  English  policeman  in  khaki  uniform,  and  for  the 
moment  you  think  yourself  back  in  England. 

Walk  down  the  riverside  “ Bund  ” under  the  trees 
and  look  across  at  the  stately  mansions,  the  banks, 
and  the  clubs,  and  the  Custom  House,  and  you  will 
see  the  last  new  thing  in  motor-cars  whizzing  down 
the  street ; the  passers-by  are  talking  German,  or 
Italian,  or  American,  and  you  fancy  yourself  in  some 
Continental  city ; but  there  are  unfamiliar  touches, 
the  Japanese  rickshaws,  for  instance,  and  the  Shanghai 
wheelbarrows,  and  the  Sikh  policeman. 

B 


China  as  I Saw  It 


You  go  on  a bit  further  and  find  yourself  in  France. 
There  are  French  names  over  the  shops,  French  people 
on  the  pavement,  Parisian  “ fiacres  ” in  the  streets, 
and  a French  air  about  the  houses  ; but  the  police- 
men wear  “ queues,”  and  in  spite  of  their  French 
uniforms  are  evidently  Chinese.  Persevere  and  you 
will  come  to  China. 

You  started  from  something  very  like  China,  by 
the  way,  on  the  other  side  of  the  bridge,  but  I forgot 
to  mention  the  fact,  and  by  this  time  you  are  sur- 
rounded by  tumble-down  shops,  and  houses  like 
decayed  stables ; and  the  long-“  queued  ” natives  in 
cotton-cloth  garments  of  cornflower  blue,  who  have 
never  been  wholly  lacking,  increase  tremendously  in 
numbers,  and  swarm  over  street  and  pavement. 

There  are  no  motor-cars  any  longer,  but  plenty  of 
wheelbarrows,  and  the  wheelbarrow — the  Shanghai 
“ hansom  ” as  they  call  it — is  a typical  feature.  It 
consists  of  a wheel  and  very  little  else,  and  can  carry 
half  a ton  of  luggage  or  a whole  family  party.  The 
great  point  to  be  considered  is  the  balance,  and  it  is 
no  uncommon  sight  to  see  a sturdy  pig  securely  roped 
to  the  ledge  on  one  side  of  the  wheel,  whilst  one  or 
more  adults  balance  its  weight  on  the  other.  When 
the  load  is  heavy  the  barrow  man  strains  every  muscle, 
and  staggers  under  its  weight.  It  waggles  ominously. 
Every  moment  one  fears  it  will  turn  over  altogether, 
but  it  never  does. 

Then  there  are  the  burden  bearers — men  with 
bamboo  poles  across  their  shoulders,  from  either  end 


THE  SHANGHAI  “HANSOM  ' 


From  Drawings  by  X alive  Artists. 

A COMMON  SIGHT  IN  CHINA 


Page  2 


China  as  I Saw  It 


of  which  heavy  loads  are  suspended,  men  carrying 
portable  barber  shops,  portable  kitchens  and  res- 
taurants, portable  anything,  in  fact.  They  say  you 
have  only  got  to  give  a Chinese  a pole  and  a bit  of 
rope,  and  there  is  nothing  that  he  will  not  be  able 
to  move — if  you  give  him  time.  Men  are  cheaper 
than  horses  in  Shanghai,  though  horses  are  cheap 
enough,  and  a heavily  laden  cart — a thing  like  a raft 
on  wheels — will  be  drawn  along  by  a straining,  per- 
spiring team  of  bare-backed  men. 

The  Sikhs  in  khaki  uniforms  at  the  corners  of  the 
streets  are  superbly  fine  and  large,  and  blissfully  un- 
perturbed. Their  brilliant  turbans  of  scarlet,  red,  or 
pink — bright  spots  of  colour  above  the  crowd — re- 
mind one  of  stately  poppies  in  a field  of  cornflowers  ; 
not  that  the  stolid  Celestial  is  very  much  like  a corn- 
flower, but  the  everlasting  cornflower  blue  of  his 
cotton-cloth  garments  provokes  the  comparison.  Some 
of  them  are  not  of  cotton  cloth,  by  the  way,  but  of 
rich  brocaded  silk  ; even  so  the  favourite  colour  is  blue. 

At  home  one  would  expect  these  grandly  attired, 
stately  looking  creatures  to  dwell  in  lordly  mansions. 
Possibly  some  of  them  do.  In  the  residential  streets 
of  Shanghai  there  are  many  magnificent  houses  in- 
habited by  wealthy  Chinese — retired  officials,  etc., 
who,  having  feathered  their  own  nests,  escape  from 
the  extortions  of  their  successors  by  dwelling  under 
British  rule.  But  it  is  only  a very  few  comparatively 
who  care  to  appear  wealthy,  and  if  you  chance  to 
notice  the  wearer  of  an  especially  beautiful  brocade 


China  as  I Saw  It 


go  back  to  his  abode,  you  will  probably  be  amazed  to 
see  him  disappear  up  a damp  and  odoriferous  passage, 
like  a back  entrance  to  a stable  mews,  and  enter  in  at 
a musty,  dingy  dwelling-place.  If  you  glance  in 
through  the  open  door  you  will  most  likely  see  nothing 
but  a blank  wall,  as  the  inner  door,  to  be  correct, 
must  open  at  right  angles  in  order  to  keep  off  evil 
spirits.  Probably  in  that  shadowy  background  there 
are  quite  a number  of  people  peering  out  to  see  who 
is  coming  in.  They  are  members  of  the  brocaded 
gentleman’s  family. 

We  went  out  to  dinner  the  other  night  at  the  home 
of  some  of  those  well-to-do  Chinese.  The  daughter 
of  the  house  had  been  educated  in  England,  and  was 
a friend  of  Kay’s — Kay,  my  sister-in-law,  under  whose 
wing,  as  you  know,  we  have  come  to  China.  I be- 
thought me  of  the  stable  mews  as  we  turned  out  of 
a busy  thoroughfare  into  one  of  those  unspeakably 
obnoxious  passage  ways  and  round  a corner.  Most 
things  in  China  are  round  a corner  ! We  felt  our 
way — it  was  getting  dark — up  a step  and  down  a step, 
through  a shadowy  archway,  and  across  a clumsily 
paved  court  till  we  arrived  at  a door  in  a wall.  This 
led  into  a tiny  courtyard.  The  guest-hall  was  divided 
from  the  courtyard  by  large  doors  with  glass  panels, 
in  style  of  architecture  akin  to  that  of  an  English 
coach-house  plus  glass  panels  (or  they  might  have  been 
paper  panels)  to  the  coach-house  doors. 

We  were  distinctly  late,  but  in  China  it  seems  there 
is  no  necessity  for  punctuality  at  a dinner-party.  The 

4 


China  as  I Saw  It 


usual  plan  is  to  arrive  an  hour  or  two  before  dinner, 
and  come  away  the  moment  the  last  mouthful  has 
been  swallowed.  The  guest-hall  seemed  crowded 
with  people  and  tables.  I perceived  Kay  with  folded 
hands  hugging  her  fifth  rib  in  the  approved  Chinese 
style,  bowing  vigorously  with  many  ejaculations  in 
front  of  a young  Chinese — the  son  of  the  house — who 
was  also  bowing  vigorously,  also  with  ejaculations, 
also  with  folded  hands  ; but  being  a man,  he  raised 
his  hands  before  him  and  see-sawed  the  air  with  them. 
The  ladies  clustered  at  the  back  of  the  room,  and 
evidently  did  not  expect  any  attention  until  the 
greeting  with  the  lord  and  master  was  over. 

Finally  we  placed  ourselves  formally  in  seats — 
solid  chairs  of  dark  wood,  ranged  with  their  backs 
against  the  wall.  (The  Chinese,  by  the  way,  very 
much  object  to  our  untidy  way  of  littering  chairs 
about  the  room.)  Conversation,  however,  would  have 
been  distinctly  at  a low  ebb  had  it  not  been  for  Kay’s 
fluent  Chinese,  for  our  host’s  English  was  of  uncertain 
quantity.  He  filled  up  the  gaps  in  his  vocabulary, 
however,  by  genial  smiles,  and  all  went  blissfully. 

When  at  last  we  were  bidden  to  the  feast  there  was 
no  longer  any  need  for  conversation.  People  have  not 
much  time  for  talking  at  a Chinese  meal.  It  reminded 
me  of  some  amusing  game : the  large  round  table 
covered  with  Lilliputian  dishes,  the  size  of  a doll’s 
dinner  service,  or  very  little  larger,  and  before  each 
guest  a pair  of  chop-sticks  and  a china  spoon  shaped 
like  a tea-scoop. 


5 


China  as  I Saw  It 


This,  fortunately,  was  a quiet  family  dinner,  not 
a feast,  hence  the  rice — the  duplicate  of  our  bread — 
was  brought  in  at  the  beginning  instead  of  the  end. 
A delicate  porcelain  basin  heaped  to  the  brim  was 
placed  before  each  guest,  and  with  its  advent  all 
stiffness  and  formality  was  cast  aside.  Everybody 
seized  their  chop-sticks  and  dug  them  vigorously  into 
any  dish  that  appealed  to  them,  dragging  out  lumps 
of  the  contents,  and  spilling  the  half  of  them  possibly 
on  the  polished  wood  table  (but  that  was  quite  “ en 
regie  ”),  and  dumping  their  booty  either  into  their  own 
basins  or  their  neighbour’s.  To  be  polite  the  first 
tit-bit,  or  any  especially  succulent  morsel,  should  be 
awarded  to  the  neighbour. 

The  novice  smiles  bravely  and  eats  courageously  as 
far  as  the  chop-sticks  will  permit,  but  chop-sticks  on 
a first  trial  are  as  unmanageable  as  Alice’s  flamingo 
croquet  mallet.  The  new-comer’s  usual  mistake  is  to 
hold  them  too  tightly  and  too  low  down.  It  is  also 
difficult  for  a beginner  to  finish  the  contents  of  his  or 
her  rice-bowl.  No  sooner  is  the  end  in  view  than  a 
well-intentioned  friend  throws  some  fresh  dainty  into 
the  last  layer  of  rice,  and  vigorous  protests  are  mistaken 
for  polite  thanks.  And  perhaps  the  most  difficult 
thing  of  all  is  to  remember  to  make  sufficient  noise 
while  one  is  eating.  To  sip  and  “ suzzle  ” loudly  is 
taken  as  a mark  of  appreciation  ! 

Strange  mixtures  were  in  those  Lilliputian  dishes — 
shrimps  smeared  with  green  paste  tasting  of  Gregory’s 
rhubarb  powder,  fishes’  fins  fried  in  lamp  oil,  sugared 

6 


China  as  I Saw  It 


pork  and  bamboo  shoots,  lotus  bulbs  and  shredded  ham 
and  chicken — gravies  rich  and  juicy,  and  throughout 
that  indescribable  taste  of  mouse-traps  and  black- 
beetles  in  which  one  recognises  the  familiar  smell  of 
a Chinese  street.  The  tea  came  last,  green  tea, 
appallingly  wry,  but  served  in  exquisite  old  rose  cups 
on  gilded  stands. 

The  table,  covered  with  greasy  litterings,  was 
wiped  over  with  a damp  cloth  and  the  refuse  matter 
sent  on  to  the  floor,  whilst  before  the  advent  of  the 
tea,  towels  steamed  in  boiling  water  were  handed 
round  with  which  to  wipe  our  hands  and  faces.  I have 
wondered  sometimes  whether  the  Chinese  share  the 
Japanese  view  and  think  that  we,  the  foreign  bar- 
barians/* are  dirty  ” — “ dirty,  lazy,  and  superstitious,” 
isn’t  that  the  Japanese  version  ? In  some  of  their 
ways  the  Chinese,  taken  as  a whole,  are  cleaner  than 
we  are.  What  do  you  think,  for  instance,  of  this 
washing  performance  at  the  end  of  dinner,  and  how 
about  the  “ tongue-scraper  ” which  I bought  the 
other  day,  and  which  most  well-brought-up  Chinese 
use  as  regularly  as  we  use  tooth-brushes  ? On  the 
other  hand,  in  the  muddy  waters  of  the  Suchow  Creek 
here  at  Shanghai,  they  will  wash  clothes  and  vegetables 
indiscriminately ; and  the  floor  under  the  table  in 
a Chinese  guest-hall  is  literally  unspeakable  after 
dinner  is  over,  and  not  immaculate  even  to  begin 
with. 

In  spite  of  all,  however,  I found  my  first  experience 
of  a Chinese  meal  distinctly  amusing,  though  it 

7 


China  as  I Saw  It 


lacked  some  of  the  spicy  details  which  I hear  of  at 
other  people’s  dinners.  Imagine  a dish  of  “ garden 
worms,”  deliciously  cooked,  no  doubt,  but  a “ worm’s 
a worm  for  a’  that  ” ; and  even  more  revolting  than 
worms,  the  “ piece  de  resistance  ” at  a dinner  given  by 
a wealthy  Chinese  merchant  to  the  foreign  members 
of  his  firm.  At  either  end  of  the  table  a couple  of 
rice  basins  were  turned  upside  down  ; these  basins 
were  seen  to  move  now  and  again  rather  suspiciously, 
and  when  the  last  course  of  a very  elaborate  dinner 
was  over,  the  basins  were  taken  away  at  a given  signal, 
and  for  one  brief  moment  the  table  swarmed  with 
tiny  live  crabs  scuttling  in  every  direction.  It  was 
only  for  a moment,  however.  With  more  speed  than 
dignity,  the  chop-sticks  of  the  epicures  arrested  the 
hurried  flight  of  the  escaped  prisoners,  and,  dipping 
the  unhappy  creatures  into  the  inevitable  black  sauce, 
raised  them  in  a state  of — let  us  hope  quiescence — to 
their  epicurean  mouths. 

I forgot  to  mention  the  black  sauce,  by  the  way. 
They  tell  me  it  is  the  basis  of  our  Worcester  sauce 
in  England,  and  no  Chinese  dinner  is  complete  with- 
out it.  It  appears  on  every  dinner-table,  and  the 
Chinese  use  it  with  their  food  and  think  it  delicious. 
To  me  it  accentuated  the  black-beetle  flavour,  which, 
however,  they  say  one  gets  used  to. 

I suppose  everyone  who  comes  to  China  talks  of 
the  “ swarming  numbers  ” of  the  Chinese,  although, 
according  to  one  eminent  authority  of  the  present 
time,  the  population  of  the  country  as  a whole  is  said 

8 


China  as  I Saw  It 


to  have  been  overstated.  I like  to  watch  the  crowd 
coming  and  going.  In  some  of  the  less  foreignised 
streets  it  seems  to  fill  up  the  whole  roadway  from  side 
to  side.  It  is  a comfort  to  know  that  there  is  work 
enough  and  to  spare  after  the  condition  of  things  in 
our  homeland.  As  one  watches  their  inscrutable  faces 
and  notices  their  purposeful  ways  and  unwearying 
perseverance,  one  realises  what  a power  they  might 
be,  and  will  be,  perhaps,  some  day.  They  are  num- 
bered— and  no  wonder — amongst  the  three  great 
peoples  of  the  future.  The  Westerner  comes  and 
goes,  flitting  over  the  surface  of  things,  restless  and 
hurried  like  a buzzing  bee.  He  gathers  his  honey,  it 
is  true,  but  drops  some  of  it  in  passing,  which  the 
thrifty  Celestial  turns  to  his  own  account  and  smiles 
inscrutably.  He  can  afford  to  bide  his  time.  He  is 
patient — it  is  another  of  his  characteristics. 

This  afternoon  we  went  to  see  these  thrifty  celes- 
tials in  their  own  haunts.  We  paid  a visit  to  the  native 
city,  the  old  original  city  of  Shanghai,  very  nearly 
the  same  to-day  as  it  has  been  for  many  hundreds  of 
years,  and  I think  one  realises  there  something  of  the 
obstacles  which  still  stand  in  the  way  of  progress. 
We  dismounted  from  our  rickshaws  outside  the  gates, 
and,  joining  the  ever-flowing  stream  of  Chinese, 
crossed  the  little  bridge  which  spans  the  moat  and 
entered  in  at  the  massive  black  gates,  studded  with 
huge  nails  like  the  gates  of  an  old  Norman  castle,  in 
great  stone  walls  blackened  with  age.  Inside  the  gates 
poor  leprous  beggars  crouched  in  the  shadows  ap- 


China  as  I Saw  It 


pealing  for  alms.  We  had  entered  into  the  eerie 
haunts  of  fear  and  superstition. 

Our  path  swerved  suddenly  to  the  left,  and  led  us 
by  a deviating  way  to  the  inner  gates.  Had  we  been 
wandering  spirits  bent  on  mischief  we  should  have 
been  considerably  baffled  at  this  unexpected  turn, 
for,  according  to  theory,  evil  spirits  always  fly  straight. 
Hence  the  inner  gates  of  a city  are  at  right  angles  or 
some  kind  of  an  angle  to  the  outer.  A narrow  stone- 
flagged  passage  led  us  down  under  the  shadow  of  the 
wall,  then,  turning  suddenly,  plunged  us  into  a narrow 
alley-way  oozing  with  blue-gowned  people  and  gay- 
coloured  shops — tiny  one-storied  shops,  shops  of  jade 
and  ivory,  silk  and  silver,  bristling  with  shop-signs 
and  scrolls  and  hanging  lanterns — chiefly  red  and  gold. 
There  was  just  room  enough  to  walk,  hardly  more. 
Now  and  again  the  people  in  the  crowd  pressed  back 
one  against  the  other  to  let  a sedan-chair  be  carried 
by — a bright  green  chair,  covered  in  on  every  side 
so  that  none  might  see  who  sat  therein. 

The  contents  of  some  of  the  little  shops  filtered  out 
on  to  the  flagstones  of  the  alley-way.  In  the  res- 
taurants— dark  hovels  with  mud  floors  and  dirty 
tables — culinary  operations  on  rough  brick  stoves, 
half  in  the  shops  and  half  out,  were  going  on  in  full 
view  of  the  passers-by  ; and  in  a dyer’s  establishment 
close  to,  cloth  was  publicly  undergoing  the  process 
of  being  dyed  blue.  On  the  other  hand,  there  were 
places  of  merchandise  which  seemed  at  first  sight  to 
have  nothing  to  sell ; the  wares,  probably  silk  or  some- 


IO 


China  as  I Saw  It 


thing  of  the  kind,  were  kept  out  of  sight  in  the  shadowy- 
background,  wrapped  in  paper  and  put  away  on 
shelves. 

Most  of  the  shops  were  uncommonly  dark — too 
much  light  is  dangerous  and  might  tempt  evil  spirits 
to  fly  in  and  take  up  their  abode.  And  whitewash  is 
unlucky,  as  white  is  the  colour  of  mourning.  These 
evil  spirits  give  the  shop  people  no  end  of  trouble. 
When  the  apprentices  are  taking  down  the  shutters 
in  the  morning  they  must  be  careful  not  to  talk  to 
each  other  in  the  street,  or  the  demons  may  be  at- 
tracted by  their  voices  and  enter  the  shop.  Then  the 
“ abacus  ” every  day  must  be  taken  up  and  well  shaken 
and  carefully  dusted,  just  in  case  a demon  has  lodged 
in  it  during  the  night.*  At  the  beginning  of  the  year, 
and  on  any  especial  feast  day,  the  “ god  of  riches  ” 
must  be  shown  especial  attention,  in  order  to  ensure 
good  luck. 

High-flown  sentiments,  presumably  from  the  clas- 
sics, are  doubtless  considered  lucky.  Hardly  a shop 
was  without  something  of  the  kind  written  up  some- 
where. 

The  narrow  streets  in  this  strange  city  were  like 
the  pathways  in  a maze.  Somewhere  in  the  midst  of 
them  there  is  a temple  and  a picturesque  tea-house 
on  a tiny  lake  with  fantastic  bridges — the  original, 
so  people  say,  of  the  “ willow  pattern  ” — but  to  get  to  it 
we  had  apparently  to  turn  in  the  opposite  direction, 
like  Alice  in  the  Looking  Glass  garden.  It  seems  that 
* Chinese  Superstitions , by  Joshua  Vale. 


ii 


China  as  I Saw  It 


it  is  not  possible  to  go  straight  to  anything  in  China, 
so  we  kept  on  turning  corners  and  finding  ourselves 
in  fresh  alley-ways  crowded  with  shops  and  seething 
with  people.  The  little  houses  were  squeezed  up 
together  with  never  a bit  of  free  space  anywhere. 

What  is  done  with  the  rubbish  ? one  asked.  Some- 
body replied  that  there  wasn’t  any.  The  only  two 
things  China  has  ever  been  known  to  waste  are  time 
and  feathers.  And  another  suggested  that  the 
scavenger  dogs,  of  which  we  have  come  across  several 
pitiable  objects,  ate  up  all  the  refuse  matter.  Just 
then,  however,  the  mystery  was  solved.  A particu- 
larly filthy  pail  of  water  was  brought  forth  and  poured 
between  the  yawning  crevices  of  the  paving-stones 
on  which  we  were  walking.  Looking  down,  one  per- 
ceived the  glint  of  black  water  and  realised  that  under 
our  feet  lay  an  open  drain. 

The  famous  “ willow  pattern  ” tea-house  was 
reached  at  last ; I need  not  describe  it  to  you,  for  you 
know  it  quite  well  from  the  plates.  It  was  picturesque 
enough,  or  would  have  been  if  only  the  water  round 
the  building  with  pagoda  roofs  had  been  more  like 
water  and  less  like  mutton  broth.  In  another  instant 
we  found  ourselves  as  though  by  magic  in  the  outer 
court  of  the  city  temple.  One  thought  of  the  “ tables 
of  the  money-changers,  and  the  seats  of  them  that 
sold  doves.”  There  were  the  tables  of  the  fortune- 
tellers and  the  scribes,  the  public  letter  writers  and 
the  lottery  ticket  vendors.  There  were  booths  like 
the  booths  in  our  country  fairs,  and  food  stalls  on 


12 


China  as  I Saw  It 


which  the  one  thing  I noticed  was  a large  tub  full 
of  floating  slugs. 

In  the  outer  porch  of  the  temple  Gogs  and  Magogs, 
with  horribly  distorted  faces  of  painted  wood,  kept 
guard  over  the  portals  of  the  inner  sanctum.  At  first, 
in  the  dim  light,  it  was  difficult  to  make  out  more 
than  the  faintest  outline  of  the  great  idol  raised  on 
curtained  da'fs  in  the  place  of  honour.  The  city  god 
this,  in  whose  hands  lies  the  fate  not  only  of  the  dead, 
but  also  more  indirectly  of  the  living.  In  the  nether 
world,  you  must  know,  there  is  a phantom  city  the 
counterpart  of  this  one,  over  which  the  city  god, 
with  a staff  of  phantom  officials,  holds  sway.  Due 
honour  and  attention  must  be  paid  not  only  to  the 
god  himself,  but  to  his  attendants — represented  by 
the  giant  figures  in  the  outer  porch — for  in  the  phan- 
tom Yamen,  as  in  the  real  Yamen,  the  official’s  under- 
lings must  be  propitiated  if  one  desires  a favour  from 
the  chief. 

On  our  way  back  through  the  city  we  lingered  a 
moment  in  the  outer  court  of  the  real  Yamen,  the 
palace  of  the  governing  mandarin.  Through  open 
gateways  we  caught  a glimpse  of  the  “ seat  of  justice  ” 
at  the  far  end  of  a long,  narrow  court,  draped  in  gold 
and  scarlet,  where  at  certain  times  and  seasons  the 
mandarin  “ tries  ” the  cases  that  are  brought  before 
him.  But  the  very  thought  of  the  “ seat  of  justice  ” 
in  China  conjures  up  scenes  of  blood-curdling  torture 
and  stories  of  cruel  injustice. 

The  “ skeleton  at  the  feast  ” is  everywhere  in 

13 


China  as  I Saw  It 


evidence ; almost  more  conspicuous  than  the  shops 
for  the  living  are  the  shops  for  the  dead.  In  some  of 
these  were  houses  for  sale,  the  size  of  dove-cots  ; 
sedan-chairs  ; boats ; even  men  and  horses  made  of 
brilliantly  coloured  paper,  cleverly  fashioned. 

Should  you  wish  to  give  some  relative  in  the  other 
world  a sedan-chair  with  bearers,  you  would  buy  one 
of  those  and  a certain  number  of  paper  men  and 
have  them  burnt  at  the  temple  or  by  the  priests. 

Then  there  are  the  money  shops,  hung  with  long 
strings  of  “ silver  and  gold  ” money,  shaped  in  large 
lumps  the  size  of  hoofs  and  covered  writh  tin-foil. 
This  also  is  for  the  dead,  for  in  the  phantom  city 
money  is  as  necessary  as  in  the  real  one,  and  many 
thousands,  if  not  millions,  of  dollars  are  spent  every 
year  in  the  purchase  of  tin-foil  “ silver,”  great  quanti- 
ties of  which  are  also  offered  in  worship  to  the  gods. 

Then  there  are  the  red  candles  to  be  burned  in 
temples,  the  incense  sticks,  the  crackers,  the  lanterns, 
the  paper  dragons,  and,  more  conspicuous  than  all, 
the  coffins — coffins  of  immense  size  and  thickness. 
Indeed,  one  of  the  most  acceptable  presents  you  can 
make  in  China  is  a coffin. 

One  would  suppose  that  the  shadow  of  this  dreaded 
nether  world  must  take  all  the  sunshine  out  of  this, 
but  no,  the  shadow  falls  but  fitfully.  There  is  a 
current  saying  in  China  which  I have  heard  given  in 
these  words : — 

“Worship  the  gods  as  if  the  gods  were  there, 

But  if  you  worship  not,  the  gods  don’t  care.” 

>4 


China  as  I Saw  It 


And  gradually  in  this  great  city  of  Shanghai  the  old 
order  is  changing,  giving  place  to  new.  The  young 
men  of  the  coming  generation  are  not  slow  in  availing 
themselves  of  the  opportunities  offered  for  the  acquire- 
ment of  “ Western  learning,”  and  as  in  the  majority 
of  cases  this  can  only  be  got  through  mission  schools 
and  colleges,  they  are  brought  into  contact  with  that 
which  may  mean  far  more  to  them  than  all  the  rest 
of  the  “ ologies  ” put  together,  for  in  the  words  of 
an  eminent  author  * of  the  present  day,  “ That  which 
China  needs  is  righteousness,  and  in  order  to  attain  it 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  she  have  a knowledge 
of  God  and  a new  conception  of  man  as  well  as  of  the 
relation  of  man  to  God.” 

Meanwhile  superstition  dies  hard.  It  meets  one 
on  every  occasion  and  in  the  most  unlikely  ways. 
Close  to  where  we  are  staying  in  Shanghai  stands  the 
tower  in  which  the  fire-bell  hangs.  Whenever  there 
is  a fire,  and  fires  are  numerous,  the  bell  peals  forth 
a sonorous  warning,  announcing  by  the  number  of 
strokes  the  district  in  which  the  fire  is  raging.  For 
the  first  three  or  four  months  after  the  palatial  new 
Custom  House  was  built  there  happened  to  be  an 
unusual  dearth  of  fires  in  Shanghai.  The  fire-god, 
so  said  the  Chinese,  had  mistaken  the  chimes  of  the 
Custom  House  clock  for  the  fire-bell,  and,  concluding 
that  the  city  was  having  fires  enough,  need  not  be 
troubled  by  any  more  ! How  he  discovered  his  mis- 
take history  does  not  relate. 

* Dr.  A.  Smith. 

15 


China  as  I Saw  It 


But  you  will  have  had  enough  of  Shanghai  by  this 
time.  I,  too,  am  quite  ready  to  move  on.  For 
Shanghai,  like  the  curate’s  egg,  which  was  only 
“ good  in  parts,”  is  only  Chinese  in  parts.  Wait  till 
we  get  inland ; we  shall  have  something  interesting  to 
write  about  then.  To-morrow  we  go  on  to  Chefoo  to 
shelter  from  the  heat  of  the  summer,  and  after  that 
expect  to  start  on  our  travels. 

Deborah,  by  the  way,  does  not  mean,  and  never 
did  mean  to  go  inland  ; but  then  Deborah  did  not 
really  want  ever  to  come  to  China.  She  came  under 
protest,  and  now  she  is  enjoying  it  more  than  I am. 
But  then,  of  course,  Shanghai  is  not  China  ! 

Yours  as  ever, 

VERONICA. 


j6 


Chefoo, 

June  20 th. 

Dear  Joan, 

We  have  been  three  and  a half  days  getting 
here,  because,  forsooth,  we  travelled  by  a German 
boat,  and  the  German  boats  spend  the  best  part  of 
a day  at  Tsingtau  taking  in  cargo.  Tsingtau,  as  I 
dare  say  you  know,  belongs  to  Germany,  and  out- 
fatherlands  the  Fatherland.  It  has  obliterated 
“ China  ” altogether  and  has  great  aspirations  — 
political,  commercial,  and  otherwise — which,  so  says 
the  little  green  bird,  are  doomed  to  failure. 

I can’t  say  I was  particularly  attracted  by  the  place,  it 
is  too  unfledged.  The  roads  are  painfully  new,  the  little 
trees  planted  along  the  sides  are  hardly  more  than  over- 
grown plants ; the  houses,  and  there  are  streets  upon 
streets  of  houses,  are  heavily  built  and  thick-set, 
and  always  of  two  colours,  yellow  picked  out  with 
white,  and  red  with  grey.  The  town,  however,  is 
prettily  situated  in  a sheltered  bay,  and  the  streets 
climb  up  and  down  hill,  which  gives  a natural 
beauty  to  an  otherwise  prosaic  little  “ German  ” 
town. 

And  Chefoo — what  of  Chefoo  ? My  first  idea  of 
it  was  a harbour  closely  packed  with  shipping  and  a 
bobbing  steam  launch  reached  by  a desperate  leap 
c 17 


China  as  I Saw  It 


from  a swaying  gangway,  which  landed  us  finally  c 
a stone  quay  amongst  a clamouring  crowd  of  excite( 
Chinese  coolies,  who  fell  like  birds  of  prey  on  our 
boxes  and  thrust  their  rickshaws  up  against  us  in  the 
hopes  of  a fare  — the  strongest  and  most  insistent 
winning  the  day. 

But  the  harbour,  with  its  shipping  and  the  clamour- 
ing coolies,  have  been  left  behind  in  the  foreign 
settlement,  and  the  sketch  I would  like  to  draw  you 
of  Chefoo  is  that  of  a little  town  circling  round  the 
shores  of  a bay  in  the  bluest  of  blue  seas,  nestling  at 
the  foot  of  the  hills — bare,  woodless  hills,  rising 
suddenly. 

We  are  staying  by  especial  favour  at  the  China 
Inland  Mission  Sanatorium,  a great  verandahed,  be- 
balconied  house,  charmingly  situated  on  the  slope  of 
a hill  five  minutes’  climb  above  the  sands,  with  a 
garden  of  flowers  around  it,  and  behind  it  the  little 
road  crawling  up  over  the  hills  with  its  never-ceasing 
procession  of  wayfarers  in  blue  cotton  gowns. 

There  are  few  sounds  in  the  air  save  the  murmur  of 
the  sea  and  the  sleepy  tinkling  of  the  passing  mule 
bells,  and  were  I a Chinese  I should  add  the  “ music  ” 
of  the  scissor-grinders  screeching  in  the  willow  trees, 
and  the  squeaking  of  the  wheelbarrow  wheels.  There 
are  numerous  wheelbarrows  at  Chefoo,  used  for  carry- 
ing heavy  loads,  and  the  wheels  always  squeak.  A 
squeak  is  lucky,  and  is,  moreover,  a pleasant  sound 
in  the  ears  of  a Celestial.  A wheelbarrow  without  a 
squeak  is  like  a dead  thing.  Someone  overheard  two 

18 


China  as  I Saw  It 


barrow  men  discussing  the  merits  of  their  respective 
barrows  the  other  day. 

“ Ah  ! ” said  one  regretfully,  “ I had  a good  barrow 
once.  It  would  carry  three  hundred  catties  and  sing 
all  the  time  like  an  army  of  crickets.” 

The  sound  of  the  cricket  means  to  a working  man 
in  China  the  happiest  time  of  the  year,  when  the 
fields  are  ripening  to  harvest  and  he  can  rest  awhile 
from  his  strenuous  labours  basking  in  the  sunshine. 

I long  to  be  able  to  understand  what  they  say — 
these  passers-by.  They  look  at  one  with  a calm  in- 
terest and  a slight  air  of  superiority.  Most  of  them 
are  hard  at  work — bearing  heavy  burdens  or  wheeling 
heavy  barrows,  or  guiding  a couple  of  mules  with 
a litter.  They  do  not  talk  much,  these  men,  and 
what  they  say  is  probably  not  worth  listening  to ; but 
their  calm,  intellectual  faces  are  interesting,  and,  as  I 
say,  I long  to  be  able  to  understand  their  language. 

As  a first  step  I am  taking  lessons  in  Chinese,  and 
though  I begin  to  doubt  whether  I shall  ever  learn 
enough  to  be  of  any  use,  the  study  is  as  fascinating  as 
the  study  of  some  intricate  puzzle. 

Our  first  teacher  was  old  and  decrepit,  and  swathed 
in  a blue  gown  with  sleeves  so  long  that  his  hands  were 
invisible.  His  method  of  teaching  reminded  one  of 
a gramophone.  At  the  beginning  of  a certain  Chinese 
primer  there  is  a list  of  useful  words  commencing 
with  “ O,  Ni,  Ta,”  and  ending  with  “ Bing-Ding.” 
Our  little  man  hobbled  to  his  seat,  bowed,  and  started 
declaiming  in  a loud,  sonorous  voice  the  list  of  words 

19 


China  as  I Saw  It 


from  “ O,  Ni,  Ta,”  to  “ Bing-Ding,”  and  having  got  to 
the  end,  began  again  at  the  beginning.  He  never 
once  stopped  or  allowed  us  to  interrupt  in  any  way 
whatever.  We  might  repeat  the  words  after  him 
if  we  liked  or  remain  silent.  Our  proceedings 
were  of  absolutely  no  consequence  to  him.  Un- 
consciously we  had  wound  up  our  mechanical  toy, 
and  must  wait  patiently  until  the  machinery  ran 
down.  This  did  not  happen,  alas ! until  the  end  of  an 
hour.  We  had  engaged  him  for  an  hour,  and  seeing 
by  the  clock  that  time  was  up,  he  rose  suddenly, 
bowed  profoundly,  and  hobbled  out  of  the  room. 

Our  present  teacher  is  less  intellectual  in  appearance 
than  the  aged  automaton,  but  fortunately  he  is  also 
less  mechanical  in  his  methods.  He  is  heavily  built 
and  heavy  featured  ; his  manner  is  somewhat  servile, 
his  clothes  are  old  and  worn,  his  cloth  shoes  are  all  to 
bits,  his  oil-paper  umbrella  is  in  holes,  and  the  tidiest 
thing  about  him  is  his  fan.  He  makes  up  for  his 
poverty-stricken  appearance  by  a slow,  ponderous 
gait,  resting  first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other 
in  a manner  supposed  to  be  dignified  and  befitting 
to  a learned  B.A.  He  suffers  from  chronic  catarrh, 
and  uses  the  window  as  his  pocket-handkerchief, 
which  is  somewhat  distressing  ; but  his  cold,  I begin 
to  think,  is  the  only  thing  that  keeps  him  awake.  Even 
that  fails  sometimes. 

Learning  is  held  in  great  reverence  in  China ; 
scholars  are  looked  up  to  with  respect — but  all  the 
same  are  miserably  paid  for  their  services.  Imagine 


20 


China  as  I Saw  It 


about  six  shillings  a month  to  a Bachelor  of  Arts 
for  an  hour  a day  ! 

Whether  we  are  to  blame  or  the  teacher  I know 
not,  but  our  progress  in  the  language  is  certainly  not 
rapid.  It  is  some  comfort  to  think  that  there  is  not 
a Chinese  living  who  can  “ recognise  ” the  whole  of 
the  forty-four  thousand  characters.  To  “ recognise 
character,”  by  the  way,  means  to  be  able  to  read. 
But  apart  from  the  characters  the  idiom  presents 
untold  difficulties  to  a Western  mind.  With  a view 
to  future  conversations  I learnt  by  heart  such  com- 
monplace sentences  as  these  : — 

“ Middle  Kingdom  talk,  speak  get  come,  speak  not 
come  ? ” * * * § 

To  this  imaginary  question  I picture  myself  an- 
swering : — 

“ Some  clause  words  speak  get  come.” 

I learning  slowly,  end  not  attain.f 
At  this  point  I change  the  subject  abruptly,  as  the 
following  is  a sentence  which  can  be  easily  remem- 
bered, and  ask  : — 

“ He  is  this  in  of  man,  eh  ? ” t 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  there  is  a “ he,”  by  the  way, 
to  give  point  to  this  question,  which  in  the  imaginary 
conversation  has  the  rather  improbable  answer  of  : — 
“ He  is  outside  Kingdom  man.”  § 

* Do  you  speak  Chinese  ? 

t I speak  a little.  I learn  slowly. 

| Is  he  a resident  of  this  place  ? 

§ He  is  a foreigner. 


China  as  I Saw  It 


But  alas  ! when  you  have  mastered  the  idiom  a 
greater  difficulty  still  confronts  you.  It  is  more  than 
likely  that  in  using  the  wrong  tone  of  voice  you  have 
conveyed  an  absolutely  different  meaning  to  the  one 
you  intended.  By  speaking  in  the  upper  level  tone 
instead  of  the  lower  level  tone,  or  the  vanishing  tone 
instead  of  the  entering  tone — it  sounds  horribly  con- 
fusing, doesn’t  it  ? — you  have  spoilt  the  whole  thing, 
and  by  some  slight  mistake  of  this  kind  have  said 
river  * instead  of  fire,*  or  sleep  f instead  of  water, t 
or  duck’s  eggs  t instead  of  Adam.t 

Or  possibly  you  have  aspirated  the  letter  “ k ” 
that  should  have  been  left  unaspirated,  and  this  may 
make  all  the  difference  between  a wife  and  a fowl. 
A story  is  told  of  two  young  missionaries  who  sent 
out  their  servant  to  buy  them  fowls,  but  they  used 
the  sharp  “ k ” instead  of  the  soft  one.  The  man, 
puzzled,  went  out  and  never  came  back  again  until 
the  evening.  He  was  crestfallen  and  disconsolate, 
having  failed  in  his  quest.  He  had  been  out  all  day 
trying  to  get  wives  instead  of  fowls. 

In  a monosyllabic  language  of  forty-four  thousand 
different  characters  and  only  about  four  hundred 
and  sixty  sounds,  it  stands  to  reason  that  there  are 
numbers  and  numbers  of  words  which  sound  exactly 
alike,  and  very  often  cannot  even  be  distinguished 
by  a tone  of  voice.  Under  the  sound  of  “ chi,” 

* River,  fire  = “ ho.”j 
t Sleep,  water  = “shui.” 

} Adam,  duck’s  eggs  = “ ya-tan.” 


22 


China  as  I Saw  It 


a certain  well-known  dictionary  gives  nearly  two 
hundred  different  words.  Imagine  a sentence  of 
this  kind  : — 

“ chi  chi  chi  chi,  chi  chi  chi,  chi  chi  ch’ih.” 

It  sounds  like  stammering,  doesn’t  it  ? but  it  is 
quite  a sensible  sentence.* 

Did  I tell  you,  by  the  way,  that  printed  paper  in 
China  is  sacred  ? “ The  eyes  of  the  gods,”  they  call 
the  printed  characters,  and  the  devout  accumulate 
merit  in  the  world  to  come  by  collecting  printed 
paper  that  no  one  wants  and  taking  it  to  the  temple 
to  be  burnt  by  the  priests. 

“ What’s  in  a name  ? ” might  well  be  asked  in 
China.  Smallpox  marks,  for  instance,  are  talked  of  as 
“ heaven’s  flowers.”  This  might  almost  lead  one  to 
suppose  that  they  are  considered  a mark  of  beauty. 
The  Chinese  standard  of  good  looks  differs  appreciably 
from  our  own.  A square  face,  large  ears,  and  a 
broad  mouth,  for  instance,  in  a man  are  much  ad- 
mired. In  many  cases  the  bridge  of  the  nose  is  so 
far  non-existent  that  the  one  eye  can,  an  it  please, 
look  across  and  see  the  other  eye  ! Very  possibly  the 
high  official  in  whose  august  presence  we  found  our- 
selves yesterday  evening  would  be  considered  strikingly 
handsome  from  a Chinese  point  of  view.  He  seemed 
to  me  strikingly  hideous.  All  the  same,  I should  much 
have  liked  to  be  introduced  to  him.  My  companion, 

* When  one’s  hunger  is  keen,  one  recollects  that  there  are  fowls  to 
be  had,  and  makes  an  arrangement  by  which  one  can  get  them  to  eat 
(somewhat  free  translation). 


23 


China  as  I Saw  It 


however,  Mrs.  W.,  who  had  known  China  in  the  days 
when  our  very  presence  (as  women)  at  any  public 
gathering  would  have  been  an  unpardonable  infringe- 
ment of  etiquette,  impressed  me  with  the  fact  that 
we  must  keep  as  much  in  the  background  as  possible, 
turn  our  faces  away  on  the  entrance  of  the  officials, 
rivet  our  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  give  no  sign  of  in- 
telligence. 

It  was,  after  all,  a very  informal  kind  of  gathering. 
A missionary  lately  returned  from  the  famine  district 
in  the  province  of  Kiang-si  had  been  invited  by  the 
Tao-tai  of  the  place  to  give  an  account  of  the  relief 
works  which  he  had  been  organising  for  the  benefit 
of  the  sufferers.  The  inhabitants  of  the  town — only 
the  male  inhabitants  (as  goes  without  saying  in  China) 
— had  been  invited  to  be  present. 

The  meeting  was  held  in  a beautiful  garden  of 
trees  of  graceful  foliage,  softly  illuminated  by  gor- 
geous rose-tinted  paper  lanterns.  When  we  arrived 
everybody  was  there  except  the  Tao-tai  himself — 
rows  upon  rows  of  solemn-eyed  men  with  high  fore- 
heads and  clean-shaven  faces — in  front  of  them  an 
open  space  and  a small  table  with  teacups,  by  the 
side  of  which  a rotund  and  be-spectacled  minor 
official  in  silk  brocade  bowed  smilingly,  see-sawing 
the  air  with  his  folded  hands.  To  Western  eyes  the 
smile  of  polite  society  over  here  is  distinctly  overdone. 
It  is  so  set,  so  intense  as  to  lose  all  the  charm  of  an 
ordinary  smile  and  to  acquire  some  of  the  character- 
istics of  a fiendish  leer. 


24 


China  as  I Saw  It 


The  rotund  official  made  a little  speech,  and,  after 
having  waited  for  some  time  in  vain  for  the  “ great 
man  ” to  appear,  proceedings  commenced  without 
him. 

“ Be  careful  how  you  sit,”  whispered  Mrs.  W. 
“ Don’t  loll.  Sit  up  straight.  Don’t  look  about  ! ” 

Suddenly  shouts  from  the  street  outside  announced 
His  Highness’s  approach.  Somew'here  in  the  back- 
ground a great  commotion  was  going  on.  A silence 
fell  over  the  circle  round  the  teacups,  and  from  the 
shadowy  regions  beyond  the  light  of  the  lanterns 
one  of  the  Yamen  attendants,  in  scarlet  dress  and 
mushroom  hat  (he  reminded  me  of  a knave  in  a pack 
of  cards),  darted  forward,  whispered  a word  in  the 
ear  of  the  rotund  official,  who  no  longer  smiled,  and 
dived  back  whence  he  came. 

The  whole  assembly  rose  to  its  feet,  and  the  rotund 
official  advanced  to  meet  His  Excellency  the  Tao-tai. 
A long  line  of  knaves — diamond  knaves  or  heart 
knaves — carrying  giant  lanterns  of  red  silk,  all  glowing 
brightly,  appeared  out  of  the  darkness,  and,  standing 
to  one  side,  allowed  their  chief  to  pass  forward  in 
state. 

“ Don’t  look  at  him,”  whispered  Mrs.  W.  “ You 
must  not  appear  to  see  him.”  And  so  literally  was 
her  advice  taken  that  I am  sure  the  Tao-tai  must  have 
thought  the  “ foreign  barbarians  ” wanting  in  man- 
ners. I heard  afterwards  that  being  an  enlightened 
Tao-tai,  who  had  travelled  and  knew  something  of 
our  strange  customs,  he  had  looked  in  our  direction 

25 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  had  given  a courteous  bow.  Mrs.  W.,  however, 
would  permit  no  regrets. 

“ He  would  have  seen,”  she  said,  “ that  we  knew 
how  to  behave.” 

His  Excellency  was  ungainly  in  figure — his  back 
round  and  stooping,  his  general  appearance  lumpy  ; 
but  this  is  the  “ literary  ” stoop,  they  tell  me,  and 
the  correct  attitude  for  a civil  dignitary.  His  pro- 
truding eyes  were  made  the  most  of  by  heavily  rimmed 
spectacles — another  mark  of  dignity  in  China.  He 
had  a heavy  black  moustache — a great  glory  in  a land 
where  all  moustaches  are  forbidden  by  etiquette 
before  the  age  of  forty,  and  are  by  no  means  always 
achieved  in  later  life.  On  his  head  he  wore  a hat  of 
the  nature  of  a white  cardboard  lamp-shade,  orna- 
mented by  a scarlet  and  black  fringe  and  a red  coral 
button.  His  garb  was  of  pale  blue-grey  silk,  singu- 
larly beautiful  in  tone  of  colour,  and  from  the  jewelled 
girdle  round  his  waist  was  suspended  his  fan-case. 

The  address  over,  one  of  the  attendants  stepped 
forward  to  pour  out  tea  from  the  teapot  on  the  table, 
which,  having  “ stood  ” so  long,  was  uncommonly 
nasty.  We,  of  course,  were  not  supposed  to  have  any, 
but  in  our  shadowy  corner  it  seemed  to  me  it  mattered 
very  little  what  we  did  or  did  not  do.  The  officials, 
over  their  teacups,  had  entered  into  conversation  with 
the  foreigners. 

It  was  getting  late,  and  Mrs.  W.  was  anxious  to 
“ slip  away.”  Outside  in  the  road  the  Tao-tai’s 
escort  reminded  one  of  a gipsy  caravan  broken  into 

26 


China  as  I Saw  It 


by  a Guy  Fawkes  procession  : shaggy  ponies  standing 
in  the  gutters,  slovenly  soldiers  sitting  on  the  kerb- 
stones, Yamen  runners  leaning  against  the  walls,  sedan- 
chairs  and  Chinese  lanterns  made  a quaint  medley. 

It  is  curious  the  poverty-stricken  air  which  wealth 
often  assumes  in  China.  The  grand  house  with  its 
shabby  gateway,  the  broken-down,  ill-groomed  pony 
with  rope-mended  harness  in  an  official’s  escort,  the 
soldier  in  a battered  “ sailor  ” hat,  the  dirty,  untidy 
shops  with  mud  floors,  in  which  valuable  bits  of 
delicate  porcelain  stand  side  by  side  with  the  com- 
monest of  earthenware  on  dust-lined  shelves  ; and 
where  the  wealthy  proprietor  sits  down  with  his  sons 
and  employees  at  a dingy  table  in  the  back  of  the  shop 
to  a meal  of  rice  and  pickles.  Rice,  by  the  way,  up 
here  in  the  north  of  China  is  called  “ rich  man’s  food,” 
as  it  has  all  to  be  brought  from  other  parts  of  the 
country. 

We  came  across  many  of  these  “ wealthy  ” shops 
the  other  day  in  the  native  streets  of  Chefoo — streets 
of  mud  broken  into  holes  and  puddles,  with  an 
occasional  stepping-stone,  between  low,  one-storied 
buildings,  sadly  dilapidated,  built  with  open  fronts, 
which  are  closed  in  at  night  by  shutters.  The  fruit 
shops  looked  the  most  attractive.  Never  have  I seen 
such  beautiful  fruit  or  tasted  any  that  had  less  flavour. 
The  deep  rose-tinted  peaches  of  wet  pulp,  the  golden 
pears  and  crimson  apples  of  wood  and  water,  and  an 
insipid  carmine-pink  water-melon  with  a green  skin — 
they  were  all  alike. 


27 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Now  and  again  a better-class  establishment,  prob- 
ably a wholesale  opium  store  or  a money-changer’s, 
stood  up  above  the  rest  of  the  houses  on  flights  of 
steps.  Through  the  wide-open  green  doors  at  the 
back  of  the  building  a tiny  courtyard  with  a pink 
oleander  in  the  middle  of  it  formed  a picturesque 
setting  to  the  sombre  place  of  business. 

At  a street  stall  near  by  a man  sat  busily  making 
paper  fans.  The  wall  behind  him  was  covered  with 
bright  - coloured  paper,  like  gay  “ posters,”  which 
would  soon  be  deftly  twisted  and  fastened  into  shape. 
At  the  opposite  corner,  under  a giant  umbrella  fixed 
into  the  ground,  iced  treacle  water  was  being  offered 
for  sale,  and  a professional  letter  writer  leant  over  a 
small  table  inscribing  Chinese  characters  at  great 
speed,  while  an  interested  crowd  looked  on. 

Most  shops  owned  a bird  in  a cage — for  luck. 
Besides  which,  birds  are  great  pets  in  China.  One 
meets  them  in  the  streets  being  taken  out  for  airings, 
and  very  strange  it  looks  to  see  a rough,  poorly 
dressed  labouring  man  gently  carrying  along  his  cage 
with  its  tiny  feathered  occupant,  or  sitting  on  the 
roadside  with  some  acquaintances  who  have  all  got 
their  bird-cages  with  them.  In  the  disastrous  Chino- 
Japanese  war  people  who  saw  the  Chinese  soldiers 
fleeing  through  this  part  of  the  country  say  that 
many  of  them  were  carrying  bird-cages  as  well  as 
their  bows  and  arrows. 

Weary  of  shopping,  we  finally  strayed  into  a native 
restaurant  to  dine  in  Chinese  style.  We  entered  a 

28 


China  as  I Saw  It 


dirty  black  shed  filled  with  cooking  stoves  and  culinary 
utensils,  which  looked  more  like  a blacksmith’s  forge 
than  anything  else,  and,  diving  down  a tiny  passage 
which  served  as  a larder,  we  stepped  through  into  the 
dining-room — a small,  square,  roofed-in  enclosure — 
one  could  hardly  call  it  a room — in  which  there  were 
two  or  three  tables  of  dark  polished  wood  surrounded 
by  high  stools.  The  “ waiters  ” said  they  had  never 
had  “outside  Kingdom  men”  to  dine  there  before, 
and  were  evidently  much  amused.  A boy,  bare  to 
the  waist,  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  poured  weak 
tea  into  small,  handleless  cups  by  way  of  a beginning. 
Then  came  the  basins  of  “ mien,”  a kind  of  native 
macaroni,  to  be  eaten,  of  course,  with  chop-sticks.  It 
was  like  tackling  worms  with  penholders,  but  we  suc- 
ceeded in  the  end,  leaving,  however,  a goodly  portion 
for  the  bare-backed  boy  to  finish.  After  the  “ mien  ” 
basins  of  strange  mixtures  were  brought  in,  half  a 
dozen  at  a time — bamboo  sprouts  and  sugared  pork, 
decayed  fungi  and  some  famous  dainty  from  Hong 
Kong — a kind  of  slippery  seaw'eed  with  the  flavour  of 
iodoform.  We  did  our  best  and  tasted  bravely  of 
everything.  Then  came  the  bill.  Six  of  us  had  dined 
and  there  had  been  many  courses.  How  much  do 
you  think  it  was  ? Thirty-eight  cents  in  all ! A little 
more  than  one  penny  per  head  ! 

This  letter  has  been  a long  time  getting  finished, 
but  the  weather  has  grown  so  hot  one  has  hardly 
sufficient  energy  even  to  write  letters. 

I think  I forgot  to  tell  you,  by  the  way,  that  I have 

29 


China  as  I Saw  It 


changed  my  name.  We  all  do  this  in  China,  and  the 
queer  thing  is  that  you  have  to  take  one  of  the  names 
mentioned  in  the  book  of  the  hundred  names.  In 
reality  I believe  there  are  nearly  three  hundred  to 
choose  from,  but  that,  of  course,  is  little  enough.  The 
result  is  that  the  same  name  comes  over  and  over 
again  in  the  same  place,  and  the  head  mandarin  and 
the  cook  and  the  coolie  and  the  teacher  and  the 
foreigner  are  probably  all  called  “ U ” or  “ Li,”  and 
cannot  improve  matters  like  the  Smiths  and  the 
Browns  at  home  by  adding  on  another  name  and  a 
hyphen.  When  a foreigner  takes  a Chinese  name  he 
either  translates  his  own,  if  it  is  translatable,  or  gets 
the  nearest  equivalent  in  point  of  sound.  My  own 
name  now  masquerades  as  “ Lo.”  I will  sign  myself 
by  it  for  fun. 


30 


TENG-CHEO-FU 


Tenc-Cheo-Fu, 

September  io tb. 

Dear  Joan, 

We  have  been  here  a week,  seeing  something 
of  real  unforeignised  China,  and  though  this  place  is 
only  sixty  miles  or  so  from  Chefoo,  it  would  have 
taken  us  two  days  to  get  here  by  road.  Fortunately, 
however,  we  chanced  on  a toy  steamer,  which  did  the 
journey  in  about  five  hours,  and  landed  us  on  a sandy 
shore  ever  so  far  away  from  anywhere  ; but  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  city  was  only  about  half  a mile  off, 
hiding  behind  its  great  walls.  Sedan-chairs  carried 
us  through  the  surf  to  the  shore,  and  we  were  borne 
quickly  along  across  the  ragged,  unkempt  stretch  of 
“ no  man’s  land,”  past  crops  of  millet  on  rough  scraps 
of  cultivated  ground  and  houses  of  the  cow-shed  order. 
Finally  we  dived  under  one  of  the  arched  gateways 
in  the  great  castellated  wall — built  in  300  b.c.,  and 
still  just  the  same  as  it  was  then,  so  people  say — and 
were  soon  inside  the  city,  threading  our  way  through 
a perfect  labyrinth  of  walls.  Whatever  else  is  lacking 
in  China,  a wall  of  some  kind  is  essential.  If  you  have 
no  stone,  build  it  of  bricks  or  pebbles  ; and  if  pebbles 
are  not  possible,  use  mud  and  seaweed,  or  anything 
that  may  suggest  itself.  The  streets  seemed  to  me  to 
be  mere  passage  ways  between  the  walls,  the  houses 

31 


China  as  I Saw  It 


were  lost  to  sight  behind  the  walls,  the  sounds  were 
deadened  and  muffled  by  the  walls,  the  only  breaks 
were  doorways  within  the  walls,  and  the  few  people 
one  met  stood  gazing  after  us,  edging  up  tightly 
against  the  walls.  We  wound  round  corners  and 
turned  at  sharp  angles,  and  were  suddenly  taken  by 
surprise  to  find  ourselves  face  to  face  with  a little 
English  church  opposite  a stream  of  water  under  the 
willows,  a curious  contrast  to  its  walled-in  surround- 
ings. We  knew  we  could  not  be  far  off  now,  and 
another  turn  or  two  brought  us  to  a gate  under  a 
porch  in  a creeper-clad  wall,  overshadowed  by  trees 
about  which  there  was  a familiar  touch  of  home. 
That  was  my  first  view  of  Teng-Cheo-Fu. 

My  next  was  from  the  top  of  the  city  wall,  where 
there  is  a broad,  grassy,  bramble-grown  road  on  which 
the  “ foreign  barbarians  ” like  to  walk  in  order  to  get 
away  from  the  smells  and  the  closeness  of  the  narrow 
streets.  Looking  down  from  those  airy  heights,  you 
no  longer  see  walls,  but  roofs — one  great  level  plain 
of  them,  the  same  breadth,  the  same  pattern,  two 
sloping  sides  from  a curved  ridge,  and  here  and  there 
a dark  smudge  of  green  where  a handful  of  trees 
breaks  the  line  of  roofs  ; or  a cloud  of  gold  dust  in  the 
air,  which  points  out  the  site  of  a threshing  floor. 
They  are  like  the  old  Biblical  threshing  floors ; the 
same  primitive  implements  of  two  thousand  years 
ago  are  still  in  use,  and  just  now  they  are  busy  thresh- 
ing out  the  newly  harvested  millet. 

We  stayed  till  the  sun  went  down  and  the  city  wall 

32 


China  as  I Saw  It 


stood  out  fierce  and  black  against  the  rose-red  fire  of 
the  western  sky.  Away  to  the  north  the  sea  lay  in 
shadow,  and  below  us  a gossamer  veil  fell  over  the 
dusky  grey  of  the  roof-tops  and  made  one  vast  blur 
of  the  whole. 

As  we  sit  sometimes  in  the  shady  verandah  of  our 
hostess’s  house,  only  a stone’s  throw  from  the  street, 
it  is  difficult  to  believe  we  are  in  the  midst  of  a great 
city — the  air  is  strangely  and  uncannily  silent.  There 
are  people  passing,  passing  all  the  time — we  neither 
see  them  nor  hear  them.  Their  cloth  shoes  or  their 
bare  feet,  as  the  case  may  be,  give  no  sound.  There 
is  no  wheeled  traffic,  and  the  mules  treading  through 
the  dust  make  as  little  noise  as  the  men.  Now  and 
again  the  persistent  whining  of  a beggar  rises  and 
falls  in  mournful  cadence,  and  for  three  days  and 
three  nights,  at  frequent  intervals,  in  a house  not  far 
away  there  were  sounds  of  loud  lamentations  as  a 
bereaved  widow  wept  and  wailed  for  the  appointed 
space  of  time.  Occasionally,  if  money  is  no  object, 
someone  is  hired  to  do  the  requisite  amount  of  crying 
for  the  chief  mourners.  Tears  without  cries  are  of 
no  avail,  the  weeping  must  be  loud  and  agonised,  so 
that  all  men  may  hear  and  know. 

Just  lately  a sad  tragedy  has  taken  place  in  the  home 
of  one  of  the  leading  families  of  the  town.  The  only 
son  has  died  from  the  results  of  burns  caused  by  the 
mosquito  curtains  of  his  bed  catching  fire  one  night 
while  he  was  asleep.  Our  hostess  is  on  very  friendly 
terms  with  the  dead  man’s  mother  and  sister  and  the 


D 


33 


China  as  I Saw  It 


poor  young  widow.  They  all  live  together  in  the 
approved  Chinese  style,  in  a palatial  house  not  far 
from  where  we  are  staying. 

Our  hostess,  returning  from  a visit  of  condolence,  has 
actually  brought  with  her  an  invitation  for  Deborah 
and  myself.  This  is  only  the  first  week  of  mourning, 
yet  the  bereaved  mother  will  be  “ very  pleased  ” if 
we  will  go  and  see  her.  Is  it  not  extraordinary  from 
our  point  of  view  ? But,  as  you  know,  everything 
is  contrariwise  out  here,  and  a certain  amount  of 
publicity  is  courted  at  times  of  great  mourning.  We 
must  even  dress  as  gaily  as  possible,  we  are  told,  as 
this  will  be  expected  of  us. 

I will  finish  my  letter  after  our  visit  is  over,  as  you 
will  be  interested  to  hear  how  we  got  on. 


It  was  the  strangest  visit  I have  ever  paid.  We 
arrived  to  find  the  great  doors  of  the  palatial  house 
draped  and  festooned  in  white  sackcloth.  The  gate- 
keeper ushered  us  in,  and  silently  we  walked  through 
an  outer  court  into  an  inner  court,  and  still  further. 

At  this  point  some  of  the  ladies  of  the  house  came 
to  meet  us — dainty,  gently  smiling  little  women,  with 
soft,  clinging  ways.  They  took  our  hostess’s  hands 
and  held  them  affectionately.  They  were,  of  course, 
in  mourning — the  plainest  of  dark  blue  cotton  tunics 
and  trousers,  and  the  orthodox  white  mourning  shoes. 
They  led  us  up  the  steps  into  the  house.  The  poor 
bereaved  mother,  a solemn,  elderly  little  woman,  with 

34 


China  as  I Saw  It 


a refined  and  intellectual  face,  clad  in  the  same  simple 
blue  garments,  with  the  same  tiny  white  shoes  on  her 
poor  bound  feet,  the  size  of  small  hoofs,  stood  awaiting 
us.  She  took  our  hands — Deborah’s  and  mine — in 
the  same  pretty,  clinging  way,  and  led  us  through  into 
an  inner  room — a small  room,  and  filled  almost  entirely 
by  a coffin  of  enormous  size  placed  on  trestles,  and 
in  front  of  it  a table  with  a picture  of  the  dead  man 
under  a glass  case  and  flowers  and  other  mementoes. 
It  was  a difficult  moment,  especially  for  us,  with  our 
limited  knowledge  of  the  language.  They  say,  how- 
ever, the  Chinese  know  a great  deal  more  than  we  do 
by  intuition.  It  almost  amounts  with  them  to  a 
sixth  sense.  Let  us  hope,  therefore,  that  they  realised 
our  sympathy  to  the  full,  though  we  could  not  ex- 
press it  in  words. 

Out  of  compliment  I think  to  our  hostess,  for  whom 
they  evidently  entertained  a very  affectionate  regard, 
we  were  finally  conducted  into  the  inner  room,  the 
bedroom,  as  it  turned  out,  of  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
a comfortless  apartment  enough,  consisting  chiefly 
of  the  “ Keng,”  a brick  bed,  in  which  a fire  is  lit  in 
winter,  and  on  which  at  night  the  wadded  quilts  of 
the  bed  itself  are  laid  ; but  in  the  daytime,  apparently, 
it  is  spread  with  a strip  of  white  matting  and  serves 
as  a sofa.  Round  the  wall,  cupboards  like  large  har- 
moniums and  massive  mahogany  chairs  and  tables 
were  placed  in  stiff  and  somewhat  crowded  array. 
The  brick  bed  made  a most  uncomfortable  seat.  We 
sat  on  it,  three  in  a row,  our  feet  dangling,  as  we 

35 


China  as  I Saw  It 


were  too  high  up  to  reach  the  floor.  Behind  us  a 
large  window  with  wooden  slats  and  paper  panes. 
Opposite  to  us  another  window  of  the  same  descrip- 
tion. 

Conversation,  as  you  may  well  believe,  laboured 
under  difficulties.  Mrs.  W.,  our  hostess,  was  engaged 
in  talking  to  the  old  grandmother,  who  had  just  ap- 
peared on  the  scene.  Deborah  and  I were  left  with 
a room  half  full  of  people,  who  not  one  of  them  spoke 
a word  of  English.  We  had  given  our  “ unworthy 
names  ” and  our  “ unworthy  ages,”  and  were  too 
shy  to  ask,  as  we  might  have  done,  for  their  “ honour- 
able ” ages  in  exchange.  We  had  tried  to  explain 
why  we  had  no  husbands,  a matter  exceedingly  diffi- 
cult for  the  Chinese  to  understand.  In  my  case  it 
was  simple  enough.  They  expressed  sympathy  ; but 
why  Deborah  was  not  married — that  indeed  was 
puzzling  in  the  extreme.  I puzzled  them  still  more, 
however,  a moment  later  by  reverting  to  one  of  my 
lesson-book  sentences. 

“ Middle  Kingdom  talk,  understand  get  arrive, 
understand  not  arrive  ? ” 

They  stared  in  amazement. 

“ You  are  asking  them  if  they  understand  Chinese,” 
Deborah  whispered. 

Alas  ! I had  meant  to  ask  them  if  they  understood 
English. 

Fortunately,  at  this  moment  tea  was  brought  in 
and  handed  round,  with  pastry  cakes  stuffed  with 
squashed  prunes.  Glad  of  an  occupation  I drank  a 

36 


China  as  I Saw  It 


good  deal  of  tea,  but,  alas  ! my  cup,  like  the  widow’s 
cruse,  was  as  full  at  the  end  as  it  was  at  the  beginning. 
Every  time  I took  a prolonged  sip  the  serving  woman 
approached  with  a kettle  and  made  good  the  de- 
ficiency, and  I finally  severed  my  connection  with  the 
cup  by  smuggling  it  on  to  the  top  of  a neighbouring 
cupboard  when  my  hostess  was  not  looking. 

Just  then  a sad  little  procession  entered  the  room. 
The  young  widow,  quite  a girl,  with  soft  brown  eyes 
and  a pale  oval  face,  garbed  from  head  to  foot  in  white 
sackcloth,  followed  by  two  baby  boys  of  three  and 
five  years  of  age,  also  in  sackcloth,  came  up  and  knelt 
before  each  one  of  us  in  turn,  this  attitude  of  humility 
being  apparently  the  correct  thing  under  the  circum- 
stances. The  two  little  boys  are  now  the  centre  of  all 
their  hopes.  In  a Confucianist  family  only  the  male 
members  of  the  house  can  carry  on  the  religious  rites 
before  the  ancestral  tablet. 

Dreary  indeed  would  have  been  the  outlook  in  life 
for  the  little  widow  if  her  children  had  chanced  to  be 
girls  instead  of  boys.  Even  so  it  is  sad  enough,  with  no 
sure  and  certain  hope  of  anything  either  in  this  world 
or  the  world  to  come,  only  nameless  fears  and  haunt- 
ing terrors  of  evil  spirits  and  offended  demons,  and  a 
revengeful  dragon  whose  movements  are  mysterious, 
and  whose  power  is  limitless. 

For  a hundred  days  she  must  mourn  in  white  sack- 
cloth, humbled  and  heavy-hearted,  but  during  those 
hundred  days  there  are  many  things  that  may  be 
done.  The  “ seven  animal  spirits  ” which  have  gone 

37 


China  as  I Saw  It 


down  ten  or  twelve  feet  into  the  earth  will  be  return- 
ing some  time  between  the  seventh  and  the  fourteenth 
day  after  the  date  on  which  death  took  place.  The 
priests  will  know  when  to  expect  them,  and  food  for 
the  occasion  will  have  to  be  prepared.  As  to  the 
voracious  Yamen  runners,  who  will  accompany  them 
from  the  nether  world,  they  must  be  kept  busy.  So 
for  them  eggs  in  a jar  and  pairs  of  chop-sticks  are 
provided.  It  will  take  them  some  while  to  get  at  the 
eggs  with  only  the  help  of  the  chop-sticks.  Meanwhile 
the  “ soul  ” will  have  time  to  worship  the  “ spirit 
tablet  ” of  his  ancestors,  and  possibly  also  the  “ kitchen 
god.”  * 

The  priests,  if  well  paid,  will  be  able  to  do  a good 
deal  in  one  way  and  another.  Finally  there  is  the 
money  to  be  thought  of — plenty  of  gold  and  silver 
must  be  coined  for  the  use  of  the  dead  man  in  the  other 
world. 

Later  on,  when  some  of  the  ladies  of  the  house  took 
us  round  to  show  us  the  great  guest-halls  and  various 
courtyards  and  pavilions,  we  came  to  a long,  low 
building,  through  the  open  windows  of  which  we 
could  see  a number  of  men  in  white  sackcloth  work- 
ing diligently.  They  had  been  working  all  day,  and 
would  be  working  for  many  days  to  come  making 
tin-foil  money  for  the  dead  son  of  the  house. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  courtyard  a pathetic 
suite  of  rooms  was  shown  us  with  especial  pride  as 
having  belonged  exclusively  to  the  dead  man,  and  been 
* Chinese  Superstitions , by  J.  Vale. 

38 


China  as  I Saw  It 


furnished  by  him  in  “ foreign  ” style.  The  chairs 
and  tables,  most  of  them  made  in  China  after  English 
models,  were  crowded  and  huddled  together  like 
things  in  a furniture  shop. 

This  great  house  through  which  we  were  wander- 
ing was  built  in  one-storied  buildings  round  tiny 
paved  courtyards.  From  one  court  to  another  we 
followed  our  guides,  the  little  knobs  of  their  poor 
bound  feet  in  the  white  shoes  twisted  over  painfully, 
as  though  too  small  and  weak  to  bear  the  weight  of 
the  body.  We  were  taken  into  a great  guest-hall, 
built  like  a temple,  with  a carved  wooden  reredos  on 
the  wall,  the  framework  of  ancestral  tablets,  and  chairs 
and  tables  of  black  lacquer,  inlaid  heavily  with  mother- 
of-pearl.  The  walls  were  decorated  with  an  orna- 
mental trellis-work  and  bright  green  enamel. 

Now  and  then  the  paved  courts  changed  of  a 
sudden  into  gardens,  queer,  formal  little  gardens, 
in  which  palms  in  pots  stood  under  a solitary 
tree,  and  pink  begonias,  blue  and  white  asters, 
and  sweet-scented  white  crocuses  clustered  in  tiny 
beds  surrounded  by  paving-stones.  Our  companions 
gathered  a nosegay  of  flowers,  and  apportioned  them 
out  in  exactly  even  quantities  to  the  three  of  us,  one 
crocus  to  each.  The  crocuses  were  evidently  thought 
a great  deal  of,  and  the  scent  of  them  was  certainly 
very  fragrant. 

By  this  time  shyness  had  worn  off,  and  our  new 
friends  took  courage  to  do  that  which  I am  sure  they 
had  been  longing  for  all  the  afternoon,  namely,  to 

39 


China  as  I Saw  It 


inspect  some  of  the  small  trinkets  we  were  wearing 
and  examine  our  hats  and  gloves.  The  gloves  were 
especial  objects  of  interest.  They  do  not  wear 
any  themselves,  of  course,  and  probably  think  the 
custom  a strangely  barbaric  one,  though  they  were 
far  too  polite  to  say  so.  On  the  contrary,  the  burden 
of  their  remarks  was  “ Hao  Kan  ! Hao  Kan  ! ” (Good 
to  look  upon)  ; and  I — if  I had  known  how  to  say  it — 
should  have  answered  disparagingly,  acknowledging 
the  contemptible  inferiority  of  my  possessions  and 
extolling  the  surpassing  beauty  of  their  own. 

Finally  we  were  escorted  back  to  the  melancholy 
coffin  chamber  to  bid  farewell  to  our  hostess.  The 
family  gathered  round  us,  bowing  and  smiling. 
There  were  so  many  of  them,  and  they  all  looked  so 
much  alike,  that  I found  myself  considerably  puzzled 
as  to  who  was  who,  and  was  told  afterwards  that  I 
had  smiled  especially  sweetly  to  one  of  the  serving 
women  ; but  this  did  not  matter  as,  fortunately,  I 
had  not  “ raised  my  hands  ” to  her.  At  each  corner 
on  our  way  out  through  the  courtyards  we  turned  once 
again  to  give  another  bow,  always  finding  that  our 
hostesses  had  followed  in  our  footsteps,  till  finally  they 
came  as  far  as  the  outer  gates,  and  we  were  backing 
down  the  street,  still  bowing.  We  should  hardly 
have  done  more,  if  as  much,  had  we  been  in  the  pre- 
sence of  royalty. 

Our  visit  has  evidently  been  a success.  Another 
invitation  has  come  for  us  to  go  again  in  a few  days’ 
time,  to  hear  the  Buddhist  priests  chanting  over  the 

40 


China  as  I Saw  It 

coffin.  One  wonders  how  long  the  coffin  will  remain 
above  ground. 

In  a still  grander  mansion  near  by,  belonging  to  an 
official  family,  the  head  of  the  house — a General 
something — died  a few  years  ago.  He  was  thought  so 
much  of  that  the  Emperor  had  him  canonised  as  a 
saint  after  his  death,  and  presented  the  memorial 
chapel  which  has  been  built  here  in  his  honour  with 
magnificently  embroidered  silk  umbrellas.  The  royal 
gift  also  included  a hoe  and  a spade  with  red  handles 
for  the  digging  of  the  grave.  But  the  grave  was  not 
dug  for  two  whole  years.  They  waited  until  the  baby 
heir  should  be  old  enough  to  perform  the  ancestral 
rites.  Meanwhile  the  coffin  was  kept  in  the  General’s 
house,  and  though  some  said  it  was  not  objectionable, 
others  said  it  was.  Probably  the  matter  depended  on 
the  way  of  the  wind. 

The  other  day  we  found  ourselves  by  accident  at  a 
funeral  feast,  but  we  did  not  stay.  In  one  of  the 
narrow,  cobble-paved  streets,  under  a temporary  erec- 
tion of  straw  matting,  men  in  dingy  white  sackcloth 
were  droning  out  melancholy  “ bagpipe  ” sounds 
from  unmusical  instruments  and  drumming  gaily  on 
monster  drums.  An  interested  crowd  had  gathered 
round,  and  people  were  swarming  in  and  out  of  the 
open  doors  of  the  house  like  bees  in  and  out  of  a hive. 
Our  escort,  a Chinese  professor,  made  signs  to  us  to 
enter. 

Stepping  in  through  a dark  passage,  we  found 
ourselves  in  a courtyard,  which  had  been  turned  into 

4i 


China  as  I Saw  It 


a kind  of  temporary  kitchen.  Everywhere  there  were 
cook-pots.  Pink  morsels  of  flesh  and  fish,  floating 
in  large  basins  of  greasy  water,  and  vegetables,  cut 
and  minced  together  in  messy  heaps.  Numbers  of 
cooks  were  hard  at  work,  the  smell  of  burnt  oil  and 
squashed  ladybirds  permeated  the  air. 

Threading  our  way  through  their  midst,  we  stepped 
through  a dark  ante-chamber  into  a dimly-lit  inner 
room,  the  crowd  pressing  on  behind  us.  The  centre 
of  the  floor  was  occupied  by  a temporary  altar,  on 
which  a feast  of  choice  dainties  in  Lilliputian  dishes 
was  spread  out  in  front  of  a glass  case  occupied  by  a 
slip  of  paper  bearing  the  name  of  the  dead  man. 
Sitting  on  seats  planted  against  the  walls  were  the 
ghostly  figures  of  the  mourners,  swathed  in  white 
sackcloth,  silent  and  motionless,  and  on  the  floor  on 
either  side  of  the  “ altar  ” the  dead  man’s  two  sons 
were  kneeling  solemnly.  A group  of  small,  grimy 
boys — only  hired  mourners  these — in  dirty,  tattered 
garments  of  white  sackcloth  and  long  pheasants’ 
feathers  in  their  unwashed  hands,  gazed  at  us  in 
curiosity.  We  could  go  through  if  we  wished  ; the 
coffin  with  the  dead  man  was  in  the  next  room,  the 
doors  of  which  were  open,  but  we  desisted.  From 
our  point  of  view,  our  intrusion  as  perfect  strangers 
into  the  house  of  death  seemed  an  unpardonable 
liberty.  Evidently,  in  the  Chinese  professor’s  eyes 
it  was  nothing  of  the  kind. 

You  will  wonder  how  we  came  to  be  out  with  a 
Chinese  professor.  In  inland  China  such  a thing 

42 


A GIKLS’  SCHOOL  AT  TENGCHEO-l-U 


China  as  I Saw  It 


would  be  the  height  of  impropriety.  In  inland  China, 
so  I am  told,  even  husbands  and  wives  are  not  often 
seen  together  in  public,  but  here  at  Teng-Cheo-Fu 
foreigners  have  lived  for  forty  years  or  so,  and  the 
people  have  grown  accustomed  to  their  eccentric 
ways.  Our  learned  companion  was  merely  one  of  the 
teachers  from  the  girls’  school  where  we  are  staying. 

Did  I tell  you,  by  the  way,  that  our  hostess  is  the 
principal  of  a large  American  Presbyterian  school 
for  girls  ? The  pupils,  in  order  to  graduate  in  the 
approved  American  style,  must  go  through  a nine 
years’  course.  Besides  Chinese  classics  they  study 
Western  subjects  (in  their  own  language) — algebra, 
geometry,  history,  and  physiology,  and  so  forth — 
and  some  develop  eventually  into  teachers  themselves. 

A very  different  kind  of  school  this  to  one  in  an 
inland  province  that  was  described  to  us  the  other 
day.  The  principal,  a Chinese  lady  of  rank,  having 
received  a good  education  herself,  had  started  a school 
on  her  own  account.  Her  pupils  were  any  age  from 
eight  to  forty,  and  many  of  them  wives  of  high 
officials.  Eager  to  display  her  knowledge  of  Western 
customs,  she — the  principal — dressed  herself  “ a l’an- 
glaise  ” in  a purple,  sack-like  tunic,  belted  in  at  the 
waist  (a  foreigner  must  always  have  a waist,  just  as 
we  think  a Chinese  must  always  have  a “ queue  ”),  a 
shiny  black  sailor  hat  lined  with  flannelette  and 
trimmed  with  real  flowers  that  had  withered  away, 
and  lastly,  brown  boots  on  her  poor  little  misshapen 
feet. 


43 


China  as  I Saw  It 


“ And  what  do  you  teach  them  ? ” asked  my  friend, 
who  was  interested  in  this  new  species  of  school. 

“ Oh,”  whispered  the  little  lady  confidentially, 
“ they  don’t  really  learn  anything,  you  know,  but 
they  like  to  come,  and  their  husbands  like  them  to 
come.” 

“ What  do  they  do,  then  ? ” 

“ They  just  talk,  and  play  and  smoke  their 
water-pipes,  and  if  there  is  any  matter  of  dispute, 
their  husbands  sit  in  committee  and  decide  the 
question.” 

“ But  what  a pity,”  said  my  friend ; “ could  you  not 
urge  them  to  make  a better  use  of  their  time  ? ” 

“ Well,  there  was  one,”  said  the  little  lady  sadly, 
“ who  could  have  learnt  if  she  had  wished  to.  She 
had  plenty  of  ability,  but  when  I pressed  her  to  study 
she  complained  to  her  husband  that  she  was  being  ill- 
treated,  and  that  was  an  end  of  it.” 

There  is  certainly  a pathetic  side  to  this  new  craze 
in  China  for  education  and  Western  knowledge  in 
any  shape  or  form.  Even  the  man  who  advertised 
that  he  could  “ teach  the  English  language  up  to  the 
letter  G ” probably  did  not  lack  for  pupils. 

Our  Chinese  professor  made  a very  useful  guide. 
He  even  succeeded  in  getting  us  through  into  the 
sacred  precincts  of  a Confucian  temple  on  a day  when, 
as  we  afterwards  heard,  women  were  especially  ex- 
cluded. We  noticed  a considerable  demur  amongst 
the  men  at  the  gates  before  they  consented  to  let  us 
pass.  The  crowd  gazed  after  us  wonderingly  as  the 

44 


China  as  I Saw  It 


gates  closed  to  behind  us.  After  the  paved  courts 
and  crowded  buildings  of  most  of  the  other  temples, 
the  grounds  of  this  one  looked  delightfully  spacious 
and  rural.  The  great  pavilion-like  edifice  was  painted 
red,  the  orthodox  colour  of  all  Confucian  temples, 
and  stood  on  a slight  rise  up  amongst  the  trees  on  the 
further  side  of  green  “ lawns.”  A herd  of  goats 
grazed  placidly  out  in  the  sunshine,  and  a great  black 
bullock  stood  patiently  beneath  the  trees. 

After  some  hesitation  the  doors  of  the  temple 
were  opened  to  admit  us.  Alas ! instead  of  the 
solemn  dignity  of  the  usual  Confucian  temple — the 
twilight  hall,  empty  save  for  dust  and  cobwebs  on 
the  walls,  and  an  altar-like  table  drawn  up  before  the 
Confucian  tablet — we  stood  amazed  to  find  ourselves 
face  to  face  with  a huge  effigy  of  the  great  sage, 
whose  blackened  face  and  hideous,  distorted  features 
reminded  one  of  some  horrible  Taoist  idol.  And 
on  either  side,  ranged  in  long  rows  down  the  side 
wall,  were  equally  hideous  though  less  gigantic 
effigies  of  his  disciples.  What  horror  he  would 
have  felt  could  he  have  seen  those  grotesque  images 
of  himself  and  his  followers ; and  this  apparently 
was  the  day  on  which  the  autumnal  sacrifices  were  to 
be  offered,  one  of  the  great  days  of  the  Confucian 
year. 

Our  rural  bullock  and  grazing  goats  were  now 
pathetic  details  of  the  scene.  Another  hour  or  two 
would  see  them  slaughtered  beneath  the  trees,  and 
as  the  day  passed  into  night  the  grounds  would  be 

45 


China  as  I Saw  It 


crowded  by  excited  throngs  of  eager  men.  Officials 
from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  would  be  there  in  state 
with  their  escorts,  and,  after  welcoming  the  spirit  of 
Confucius  in  their  midst,  the  carcase  of  the  bullock 
would  be  offered  to  him  in  sacrifice,  and  the  dead 
goats  apportioned  one  apiece  to  the  disciples.  Finally, 
at  the  close  of  the  ceremony,  the  spirit  of  the  sage 
having  been  bowed  reverently  away,  the  beef  and  the 
goats’  flesh  would  be  shared  out  amongst  the  officials 
according  to  rank  and  status.  And  this  in  the  name 
of  the  great  teacher  who  condemned  sacrifices  and  all 
that  savoured  of  idolatry. 

Even  our  Confucian  friends — the  poor  bereaved 
family  whom  I told  you  of — are  only  Confucian  in 
theory. 

This  afternoon  we  accepted  the  invitation  to  go 
and  hear  the  Buddhist  priests  chanting  over  the 
coffin.  Such  a strange  scene  ! The  doors  of  the 
coffin  chamber  had  been  opened  wide,  and  the  little 
courtyard  in  front  roofed  in  and  gorgeously  draped 
in  superb  hangings  of  blue  and  silver  and  other  colours. 
At  long  narrow  tables  eleven  Buddhist  priests,  “ shaven 
and  shorn,”  in  loose  grey  gowns  of  some  coarse  material, 
sat  turning  over  the  leaves  of  great  books  which  lay 
on  the  table  before  them,  without,  however,  appearing 
to  look  at  the  pages.  They  sang  over  monotonous 
words  to  a monotonous  chant  while  one  of  their 
number  beat  time  by  tuneless  thuds  on  a gourd- 
like drum.  Some  of  the  words  were  Indian,  wholly 
unintelligible  probably  to  everybody  present,  and 

46 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  daughters  of  the  household,  who  sat  by  my 
side,  beguiled  the  time  by  making  a minute  inspection 
of  the  braiding  on  my  coat  and  the  style  of  my 
hatpin,  a matter  of  great  interest. 

Between  the  priests  and  the  coffin  a table  was  laid 
out  for  a repast,  every  delicacy  imaginable  in  a dozen 
or  so  dishes,  especially  prepared,  not  for  the  living, 
but  for  the  dead  ! And  in  an  outer  courtyard,  on  a 
table  set  before  a scroll  on  which  the  name  and  de- 
scription of  the  deceased  man  and  his  son  and  heir 
were  inscribed,  an  oil  painting  of  the  “ king  of  the 
devils  ” stood  between  two  large  basins  of  cooked 
vegetables,  sprinkled  with  flour  and  millet.  The 
mistress  of  the  house  explained  that  this  food  was  to 
be  taken  out  and  scattered  in  the  streets  for  the  benefit 
of  the  poor  wandering  beggar  spirits  in  the  nether 
world.  She  readily  admitted  that  the  food  would  in 
reality  be  eaten  by  the  living,  probably  by  the  scaven- 
ger dogs,  and  not  by  the  dead. 

But  that  did  not  matter,  she  said,  the  meaning  was 
symbolical,  and  by  scattering  the  food  broadcast  in 
the  streets  the  wandering  spirits  would  receive  benefit ; 
she  knew  not  how,  only  that  this  was  so  ! 

I have  heard  it  said  that  China  lives  more  for 
the  dead  than  the  living.  One  is  constantly  reminded 
of  this.  Not  far  from  Chefoo  people  die  of  cold  in 
the  winter  with  a wealth  of  coal  under  their  very 
houses,  because  they  dare  not  disturb  the  ground  to 
get  at  the  coal  for  fear  of  disturbing  the  spirits  of 
the  dead.  Railways  were  opposed  for  the  same  reason, 

47 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  though  the  opposition  has  been  overcome  to  a 
certain  extent,  it  is  a case  in  many  instances  of — 

“ He  that  complies  against  his  will 
Doth  hold  the  same  opinion  still,” 

and  many  are  the  misfortunes  attributed  to  the 
foreign  barbarians’  “ fire  carriages.”  No  wonder  pro- 
gress is  slow. 

As  we  walked  home  from  the  Buddhist  ceremony 
we  passed  down  one  of  the  main  thoroughfares  of 
the  city,  no  longer  silent  grey  walls,  but  a long  double 
line  of  blurred  colour,  open-fronted,  booth-like  shops 
hung  with  gay  shop  signs — red,  scarlet,  and  gold — 
lanterns  and  scrolls,  and  across  from  side  to  side  a gay 
triumphal  arch  (in  reality  a memorial  arch),  one  blaze 
of  enamelled  tiles,  blue  and  green,  and  gilded  carving. 
The  narrow  pavement  beneath  our  feet  was  cleverly 
contrived  of  old  mill-stones  set  in  pebbles  smooth  with 
age. 

A quaint  procession  passed  us — mourners — girded 
with  sackcloth,  on  their  way  to  a funeral.  One  thought 
of  the  old  Biblical  days,  the  places  of  merchandise, 
the  sellers  of  purple  and  fine  linen,  the  vessels  of 
brass  and  bright  iron,  the  money-changers  and  those 
who  “ weigh  silver  in  the  balance,”  Lazarus  at  the 
gates  of  Dives  and  the  traveller  riding  on  his  ass,  and 
out  in  the  more  open  land  beyond  the  market-place 
the  “ threshing  floor  of  Oman  the  Jebusite,”  and  the 
“ lodge  in  the  garden  of  cucumbers  ” (only  you  must 
read  water-melons  instead  of  cucumbers).  They  were 

48 


China  as  I Saw  It 


all  there,  just  as  they  used  to  be  hundreds  of  years 
ago.  But  changes  are  making  themselves  felt  even 
here  in  this  city  of  300  b.c. 

We  passed  out  of  the  old-time  streets  into  the 
school  compound,  where  the  forty  Chinese  maidens, 
embryo  American  graduates,  were  imbibing  Western 
knowledge  with  the  best  will  in  the  world.  A young 
visitor  was  waiting  for  us  on  the  verandah.  Originally 
he  had  served  as  a cadet  in  the  Chinese  Navy,  but, 
refusing  to  “ worship  ” Confucius,  he  had  been  obliged 
to  give  up  his  profession,  and  was  now  engaged  in 
educational  work  under  the  foreigners  at  Teng-Cheo. 
He  talked  excellent  English,  but  our  conversation, 
alas  ! was  brought  to  an  abrupt  close  by  a messenger 
rushing  in  to  tell  us  that  our  steamer,  which  we  had 
not  expected  till  to-morrow,  was  in  sight.  So  my  next 
letter  will  be  from  Chefoo. 

In  haste, 

Yours,  etc. 


£ 


49 


Chefoo, 

October  io th. 

Dear  Joan, 

I have  never  known  such  a difficult  place  to  get 
away  from  as  Teng-Cheo-Fu.  We  have  done  it  at 
last,  however,  and  here  we  are  back  at  Chefoo  in  a 
perfect  ferment  to  be  off  on  our  journey  to  Peking, 
as  we  are  a whole  week  behind  time,  and  are  to  meet 
some  friends  at  Hankow  who  have  promised  to  escort 
us  up  the  River  Yangtsi  to  the  far  west. 

We  spent  a week  trying  to  catch  a steamer,  but 
without  success.  My  own  impression  is  that  the 
servants  were  at  the  bottom  of  this.  Mrs.  W.,  who 
happens  to  be  all  alone  just  now,  had  pressed  us  to 
stay  a little  longer  to  keep  her  company,  and  the 
servants,  being  devoted  to  their  mistress,  were  deter- 
mined to  hinder  our  departure  by  every  means  in 
their  power.  We  even  kept  a man  on  the  city  wall 
who  was  to  bring  us  word  should  a steamer  anchor 
in  the  bay.  He  certainly  brought  us  word,  accord- 
ing to  instructions,  but  a trifle  too  late  to  be  of 
any  use.  On  another  occasion  we  even  got  our- 
selves and  our  luggage  in  sedan-chairs  as  far  as  the 
gates  of  the  city,  when  a messenger  came  running  up 
to  say  the  boat  had  gone. 

Finally,  with  some  trepidation  we  made  up  our 


China  as  I Saw  It 


minds  to  do  the  overland  journey  by  a mule  litter. 
Here,  again,  the  servants  blocked  the  way.  It  was  the 
time  of  the  wheat  harvest,  they  said,  and  there  was 
not  an  animal  to  be  found,  they  were  all  out  in  the 
fields. 

Mrs.  W.,  however,  spoke  severely  to  Hun-Ding- 
Jing,  her  right-hand  man,  whom  she  had  kindly  pro- 
mised to  lend  us  for  the  journey,  and  said  that,  come 
what  might,  a mule  litter  must  be  found. 

The  next  morning  it  was  at  the  door,  the  queerest- 
looking  conveyance  you  can  well  imagine — something 
like  a huge  dog-kennel  or  a Diogenes  tub  slung  on 
poles  between  two  mules — one  mule  in  front,  one 
behind.  The  arched  roof  was  of  rough  straw  matting, 
the  floor  presumably  of  wood,  but  Hun-Ding-Jing 
had  covered  it  thickly  with  wadded  quilts  and  cushions, 
so  that,  by  the  time  we  were  ready  to  start,  it  bore  the 
appearance  of  a bed  made  up  in  a dog-kennel  more 
than  anything  else.  Our  other  luggage — and  by  this 
time,  you  will  remember,  in  addition  to  our  boxes  we 
had  bedding  and  crockery  and  food  and  lights — was 
packed  away,  some  on  the  litter,  and  some  on  the 
back  of  a mule.  Still  a second  mule  was  provided 
for  Hun. 

The  first  ascent  into  our  strange  conveyance  was 
easy  enough.  We  crawled  in  like  two  huge  St.  Bernard 
dogs,  and  then  turned  round  as  best  we  could  and 
faced  out.  Thereupon  came  the  critical  moment. 
Every  able-bodied  man  in  the  vicinity  lent  a hand. 
With  excited  shouts  they  lifted  the  now  heavily- 


China  as  I Saw  It 


weighted  “ kennel  ” between  them,  and  tried  to  sling 
the  shafts  of  it  deftly  into  the  harness  of  the  two 
mules.  Not  a bit  of  it  ! If  the  mule  behind  stood 
still  the  mule  in  front  moved  forward,  and  vice  versa. 
The  shouts  and  the  yelling  increased,  and  the  litter 
seemed  in  momentary  danger  of  falling  with  a crash 
to  the  ground.  Picture  the  feelings  of  Deborah  and 
myself  cramped  up  on  all  fours  inside  it ! but  all  of 
a sudden  the  thing  slipped  into  position  as  though  by 
magic,  and  the  mules  were  safely  attached. 

We  started  off,  but  it  took  us  some  time  to  find  out 
how  to  sit.  We  seemed  altogether  too  large  for  our 
abode  and  got  entwined  occasionally  like  snakes  in  a 
small  cage  at  the  Zoo.  We  finally  discovered  that  the 
correct  attitude  was  to  squat  cross-legged  in  tailor 
fashion,  or  like  a couple  of  demure  Buddhas  one  be- 
hind the  other.  We  noticed  this  was  the  way  other 
people  sat  in  litters  which  we  met  on  the  road.  The 
motion  was  distinctly  jerky.  I believe  it  makes  some 
people  seasick,  and  owing  to  the  jerk  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  read  or  write,  or  do  anything  but  try 
to  sit  still. 

We  peered  out  at  the  view,  but  the  view  was  mono- 
tonous— a beaten  track  (called  by  courtesy  a road) 
through  miles  upon  miles  of  flat  country  laid  out  in 
vegetable  fields.  They  reminded  one  of  gigantic  al- 
lotment gardens,  sprinkled  now  and  again  by  a handful 
of  dwelling-places — low,  hut-like  buildings,  protected 
by  scraggy  trees.  After  something  like  fifty  “ li  ” 
of  this  (sixteen  miles)  we  drew  up  suddenly  in  a 

52 


A MULE  LITTER 
Travelling  from  Teng-Cheo-Fu  to  Chefoo 


China  as  I Saw  It 


village  street  outside  an  inn.  The  street  and  the  inn 
instantly  became  packed  with  people.  Our  litter  was 
lifted  down  from  the  backs  of  the  mules,  and,  crawling 
out  in  as  dignified  a manner  as  could  be  assumed 
under  the  circumstances,  we  stretched  ourselves  and 
stood  upright.  Oh  ! the  relief  of  it,  after  sixteen 
miles  curled  up  in  a kennel. 

Hun-Ding-Jing  became  master  of  the  ceremonies. 
He  invited  us  into  the  inn,  and  led  the  way,  bearing 
our  rugs  and  cushions  in  a lordly  manner.  We 
followed  him  through  the  inn  kitchen  (inn  kitchens 
in  this  land  of  “ contraries  ” are  generally  right  at 
the  front  instead  of  right  at  the  back),  and,  passing 
through  a courtyard  crowded  with  men  and  animals, 
and  surrounded  by  the  inn  bedrooms,  we  were  ushered 
into  the  grandest  guest-chambers  on  the  further  side. 
They  reminded  me  of  large-sized  poultry  houses, 
minus  the  poultry  and  the  perches.  Time  and  smoke 
had  painted  the  walls  a dingy  black,  cobwebs  and 
spider  webs  adorned  the  rafters  with  their  feathery 
lace.  On  two  brick  “ kengs  ” in  the  innermost  apart- 
ment Hun-Ding-Jing  spread  our  rugs,  and  on  the 
wooden  chest — the  only  other  bit  of  furniture  the 
room  possessed — he  laid  out  a paper  toilet-cover, 
washing  basins,  soap  and  towels,  etc.,  with  the  deft 
touch  of  a trained  housemaid. 

Mrs.  W.  had  kindly  provided  us  with  cold  chickens 
and  jellies  for  luncheon,  so  we  were  fortunately  in- 
dependent of  the  savoury  dishes  of  the  inn  kitchen 
which  we  had  smelt  in  passing. 

53 


China  as  I Saw  It 


A two  hours’  rest  saw  us  on  the  road  again.  Occa- 
sionally we  sought  to  vary  the  monotony  of  the  way 
by  walking  a mile  or  so.  Unfortunately,  however,  it 
was  not  at  all  easy  to  get  in  and  out  of  the  mule  litter. 
The  mules,  strangely  enough,  were  always  averse  to 
standing  still.  In  any  case  it  was  difficult  to  achieve 
the  descent  in  a becoming  manner  ; one  had  to  shunt 
out  backwards,  gather  one’s  skirts  together,  and  drop 
down  on  to  the  road.  The  litter  dipped  over  like  a 
boat  in  the  water.  It  was  not  unlike  a boat  in  some 
ways.  The  muleteer  every  now  and  then  indicated 
that  we  were  to  sit  more  to  the  right  or  more  to  the 
left  in  order  to  trim  it  properly. 

The  day  was  waning  when  we  reached  our  resting- 
place  for  the  night.  Chinese  are  always  loth  to  travel 
after  dark  for  fear  of  the  evil  spirits  that  have  got 
loose  from  the  “ infernal  regions  ” and  are  roaming 
about  seeking  for  substitutes  to  send  back  to  take  their 
place  in  the  nether  world. 

We  entered  the  inn  courtyard  under  a big  archway, 
and  Hun-Ding-Jing  stepped  forward  and  led  us  to 
a stable  door  by  the  side  of  the  finest  and  most  miry 
pigsty  I have  ever  seen.  One  quite  wondered  that 
the  little  pigs  did  not  sink  out  of  sight  altogether  in 
the  slough  of  black  mud.  The  door  led  into  the  bed- 
rooms ! the  inner  one  more  or  less  a duplicate  of 
our  poultry  house,  and  the  outer  one  partly  filled  with 
chicken  coops  and  cattle  pens.  It  boasted,  however,  a 
small  table,  on  which  Hun  laid  our  repast,  and  the  inn 
kitchen  provided  us  with  tea — very  hot  and  very  bitter. 

54 


China  as  I Saw  It 


The  yard  was  thronged  with  people  and  with 
animals — pigs,  mules,  and  chickens.  We  wandered 
round  it  in  the  twilight,  and  finally  came  to  a tiny 
black  kitchen,  something  like  a coal-cellar  just  emptied 
of  coals,  in  which  some  Chinese  women  were  at  work. 
A small  lamp — a wick  floating  in  a saucer  of  evil- 
smelling oil — shed  its  light  on  a woman,  ladling 
out  buckets  of  soapy  water  from  a steaming  open 
copper.  I asked  her  if  it  were  “ Kai  shui  ” (boiling 
water)  ; she  replied  it  was  “ food.”  The  room 
seemed  full  of  people,  most  of  whom  were  busily 
engaged  in  culinary  operations  over  brick  stoves 
and  almost  invisible  fires.  After  supper  Hun-Ding- 
Jing  made  up  the  beds,  and  I sprinkled  Keating’s 
powder  by  way  of  a precautionary  measure.  Alas  ! 
it  was  not  of  much  good.  The  creatures — especially 
the  musical  ones — “ laughed  ” at  Keating’s  powder, 
and  so  disturbed  my  slumber  with  their  merriment 
that  I was  still  desperately  sleepy  when  a knock  came 
at  the  stable  door  and  Hun  announced  the  unwelcome 
fact  that  the  “ day  had  dawned.” 

We  had  agreed  to  start  at  daybreak,  and  apparently 
without  our  breakfast ; the  mules  were  harnessed, 
the  things  packed  and  all  in  readiness.  Hun  had 
filled  a biscuit-tin  with  eatables,  so  that  we  might 
feed  on  the  way.  I realised  with  sinking  heart  that 
this  must  have  been  what  he  was  trying  to  explain 
last  night,  when,  proud  of  my  progress  in  the  lan- 
guage, I had  answered  “ yes.”  It  was  a case  of  pride 
before  a fall.  I knew  he  was  discussing  breakfast, 

55 


China  as  I Saw  It 


but  had  not  arrived  at  the  main  drift  of  his  argument, 
which  was  that  we  should  eat  it  on  the  way  in  the 
shape  of  jam  sandwiches.  We  had  still  eighty  “li” 
or  so  to  go,  so  it  seemed  a pity  to  wait  about  for  a 
breakfast  which,  after  all,  might  not  be  forthcoming. 
As  to  the  muleteers,  they  had  not  even  the  sandwiches 
with  which  to  fortify  themselves  for  a walk  of  twenty- 
six  miles,  but  swallowed  a cake  the  size  of  a penny  bun, 
and  that  seemed  all-sufficient. 

We  had  a weary  march  before  us,  over  a long  stretch 
of  desert  sand  in  a valley  of  desolation  by  the  sea. 
At  last  we  came  to  a broad  river,  on  which  a ferry-boat 
was  plying.  The  muleteer  divested  himself  of  most 
of  his  clothes  and  let  down  the  blue  curtain  in  front 
of  the  dog-kennel.  He  plunged  in  knee-deep,  and 
deeper  still  into  the  river,  the  mules  wading  in  be- 
side him.  The  water  swept  past  with  a strong  current 
and  splashed  up  against  the  sides  of  the  litter.  If  the 
mules  started  swimming,  it  would  soon  be  flooded — and 
what  then  ? I pictured  the  ferry-boat  coming  to  the 
rescue  ; but,  peeping  out  under  the  curtain,  we  saw 
that  the  worst  was  over,  and  ere  long  were  plodding 
through  the  sand  on  the  opposite  shore,  and  soon  found 
ourselves  back  on  cultivated  ground.  There  were  fewer 
vegetables  and  more  trees,  and  the  houses  increased 
rapidly  as  we  neared  the  outskirts  of  Chefoo.  Between 
one  and  two  o’clock  we  arrived  in  the  foreign  settle- 
ment, having  done  the  twenty-six  miles  without  a stop 
of  any  kind,  and  the  total  cost  of  the  journey,  as  I am 
sure  it  will  interest  you,  was  about  thirteen  shillings, 

56 


China  as  I Saw  It 


for  one  litter  and  four  mules  and  two  men,  and  an 
inn  for  the  night  for  three  people,  and  two  days’  food 
for  the  invaluable  Hun-Ding-Jing. 

A very  little  money  certainly  goes  a very  long  way 
in  China.  And  this  reminds  me  of  my  “ sun-bride.” 
I don’t  think  I told  you  that  I had  acquired  a protegee 
at  Teng-Cheo-Fu  in  the  shape  of  a “ sun-bride.” 
That,  apparently,  is  the  name  given  (in  this  part  of 
China)  to  a girl  who  has  been  brought  up  in  the  house 
of  her  prospective  mother-in-law  with  a view  to  be- 
coming the  wife  of  the  son  of  the  house  when  he  shall 
arrive  at  a marriageable  age.  This  is  one  of  the  least 
expensive  ways  of  getting  a wife.  A very  small  sum 
is  probably  paid  to  the  girl’s  own  people  when,  as  a 
child,  she  becomes  a member  of  her  future  husband’s 
family.  If  she  happens  to  be  a capable  girl,  they  usually 
get  a good  deal  of  work  out  of  her  in  one  way  or 
another. 

“ Glory  Flower,”  my  protegee,  is  a particularly 
capable  girl,  about  twenty-one  years  of  age  according 
to  Chinese  reckoning ; that  means  about  twenty 
according  to  our  reckoning,  as  the  Chinese  count  one’s 
age  from  New  Year’s  Day.  If  a child,  therefore,  is 
born  on  New  Year’s  Eve  it  enters  its  second  year  on 
the  second  morning  of  its  life. 

But  poor  “ Glory  Flower  ” has  fallen  on  evil  days. 
In  course  of  time  the  bridegroom  that  was  to  be,  did 
what  so  many  young  Chinese  in  the  north  are  doing  at 
the  present  time : he  went  off  to  Manchuria,  tempted 
by  higher  wages,  and  has  chosen,  so  report  goes, 

57 


China  as  I Saw  It 


another  wife.  His  “ sun-bride  ” was  no  longer  wanted. 
Her  own  people  were  dead  ; the  home  of  her  adoption 
wished  to  be  rid  of  the  burden  of  her  ; her  only  rela- 
tive, a grandmother,  refused  to  take  her  back  unless 
she  would  consent  to  worship  idols  again  and  give  up 
the  Christian  school.  Another  four  years  there  would 
enable  her  to  graduate  as  a teacher.  The  Mission  was 
ready  to  pay  a certain  amount  towards  the  schooling ; 
a very  few  dollars  were  needed  to  make  up  the  sum 
required,  and  once  again,  as  I said  before,  a very  little 
money  goes  a very  long  way  in  China,  and  “ Glory 
Flower  ” was  embarrassingly  grateful. 

To-morrow  we  start  for  Peking,  and  thence  to 
Hankow  and  on  to  the  far  western  province  of 
Szechuan.  It  will  be  months  before  we  are  back  on 
the  coast.  If  you  do  not  hear  of  us  any  more  you  will 
realise  that  something  has  happened — not  that  there 
is  any  reason  why  anything  should  happen,  though 
pessimists  say  that  China  just  now  is  in  a very  restless 
state.  In  one  part  of  the  country  they  are  rebelling 
against  the  new  opium  taxes  ; in  another  they  are 
resenting  the  educational  changes,  which  have  re- 
sulted in  some  cases  in  the  disappearance  of  the 
old  schools  and  the  non-appearance  of  the  new, 
because,  forsooth,  the  officials  have  pocketed  the 
money. 

Moreover,  last  August  a comet  appeared  on  the 
scene.  For  two  nights  it  was  plainly  visible,  so,  at 
least,  I am  told,  and  a comet  in  China  is  looked  upon 
as  an  evil  omen.  The  Dowager-Empress  wished  to 

58 


China  as  I Saw  It 

send  out  soldiers  to  have  it  punished  ! but  Prince 
Ching  advised  her  to  let  the  matter  pass,  as  in  the 
present  state  of  the  country  the  sight  of  the  troops 
firing  guns  might  create  a disturbance. 

I will  write  from  Peking,  so  no  more  for  the  present. 

Yours, 

VERONICA. 


59 


Peking, 

October  18  th,  1907. 

Dear  Joan, 

Here  we  are  in  what  is  probably  the  most 
interesting  city  of  China.  We  travelled  by  steamer 
as  far  as  Tientsin,  about  thirty  hours  all  told,  including 
two  on  the  bar  of  the  river  waiting  for  the  tide,  and 
six  more  through  the  dreariest  country  you  can  well 
imagine — up  a brown  river,  winding  in  and  out  in 
serpentine  coils  between  flat  brown  banks,  accentuated 
now  and  again  by  mud  forts  and  mud  hovels,  and  an 
elongated  town  built  entirely  of  mud ; the  khaki- 
coloured  houses  of  which  were  low  and  lumpy  and 
looked  like  a kind  of  eruption  on  the  face  of  the  mud 
shore. 

I mistook  this  place  at  first  for  Tientsin.  I realise 
now  what  a mistake  I made.  Tientsin — the  foreignised 
Tientsin — has  been  practically  rebuilt  since  the  reign 
of  terror  in  1900.  It  is  still  raw  and  red,  and  hope- 
lessly new  and  unfinished.  The  “ Veneerings  ” are 
there  in  force,  people  who  made  their  fortunes  in 
1900,  and  money  is  spent  lavishly  in  bricks  and  mortar. 
Numbers  of  imposing  “ European  ” buildings  push 
their  way  into  the  best  streets,  and  there  are  still  some 
“ eligible  building  ” sites.  Commercially  speaking, 

60 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  place  is  growing  in  importance,  but  ugh  ! how 
glad  I was  to  get  away  from  it. 

We  travelled  by  train  from  Tientsin  to  Peking, 
starting  off  early — too  early , so  they  told  us  at  the 
station,  to  get  the  luggage  labelled  ! People  with 
servants  (we  hadn’t  one)  very  often  send  their  boxes 
third  class  with  servants  to  keep  guard  over  them, 
instead  of  in  the  luggage  van.  The  third  class  looked 
like  an  open  cattle  truck  and  must  have  been 
desperately  uncomfortable.  At  the  end  of  our 
compartment — we  travelled  second — culinary  opera- 
tions were  going  on  at  an  oil  stove.  Our  fellow- 
passengers,  however,  judging  by  their  handsome  silk 
and  satin  gowns,  seemed  to  belong  to  the  well- 
to-do  classes,  and  were  mostly  men.  Some  few  were 
officers  in  Western  uniforms  of  bright  blue  face 
cloth  and  cheese-cutter  German  caps,  under  which 
their  long  pigtails  looked  slightly  “ de  trop.” 

We  arrived  at  Peking,  as  it  happened,  on  a “ lucky  ” 
day.  Why  lucky  I don’t  know,  but  all  the  brides  and 
bridegrooms  of  the  city  seemed  to  be  taking  advantage 
of  the  occasion.  I am  told  that  it  is  a significant 
fact  that  lucky  days  generally  come  in  the  autumn, 
when  people  have  more  time  for  them.  The  streets 
every  now  and  again  were  crowded  with  wedding 
processions.  Picture  two  long  lines  of  strangely 
garbed  figures  in  long  green  coats,  flapping  in 
the  wind,  walking  in  single  file,  and  bearing 
tall  red  poles,  from  the  top  of  which  red  and 
white  lanterns  hung  tremblingly.  There  was  no 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


smartness  about  the  lantern  bearers.  They  were 
shambling,  shabby,  despondent-looking  creatures,  and 
reminded  one  of  London  sandwich-men.  Behind 
them  came  the  musicians  in  an  untidy  crowd,  thump- 
ing away  on  brightly  gilded  drums  and  blowing  on 
trumpet-like  instruments,  which  emitted  a deep  bass 
wail  as  the  procession  came  down  the  road — a most 
mournful  sound,  but  probably  in  harmony  with  the 
feelings  of  the  bride  in  her  red  sedan-chair  as  she  was 
borne  along  to  her  future  home.  She  was  doubtless 
quaking  with  fear,  and  half  asphyxiated.  I heard  of 
one  once  who,  when  at  last  the  moment  came  to  open 
the  closely  fitting  doors  and  hangings  of  the  chair, 
was  found  to  be  dead  of  suffocation  ! 

Although  a wedding  in  China  is  called  a “ Hsi  s'f  ” 
— a matter  of  rejoicing — it  is  very  often  anything  but 
that  from  the  bride’s  point  of  view.  She  has  been 
practically  purchased  by  a man  whom  she  has  prob- 
ably never  set  eyes  on.  It  may  be  that  even  he  has 
had  no  choice  in  the  matter.  The  affair  has  been 
arranged  for  him  by  his  relatives,  and  above  all  by 
the  fortune-teller.  Should  the  fortune-teller  have 
discovered  that  the  “ Pah  tsl  ” (the  eight  characters) 
representing  the  year,  month,  day,  and  hour  of  birth 
of  the  future  bride  and  bridegroom  clashed  in  any 
way,  or  harmonised  too  well,  the  marriage  would  in- 
stantly have  been  decided  as  impossible.  All  being 
considered  propitious,  however,  the  fortune-teller 
chooses  a “ lucky  day,”  and  the  bridegroom,  in 
addition  to  the  money  paid  to  the  parents,  sends 

62 


China  as  I Saw  It 

in  the  bride’s  trousseau  and  a complete  set  of 
ornaments  ! 

A horrible  custom  is  still  kept  up  in  some  places, 
which  ordains  that  for  the  first  three  days  after  her 
marriage  the  poor  little  bride  must  sit  in  a room 
the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  Everyone  who  comes  in 
makes  remarks,  either  pleasant  or  unpleasant,  and 
though  they  may  criticise  as  freely  as  they  please, 
etiquette  forbids  her  either  to  smile  or  scowl, 
much  less  to  answer.  The  poor  girl  usually  looks 
her  worst  rather  than  her  best,  as  her  front  hair, 
worn  before  marriage  in  a heavy,  straight  fringe  across 
her  forehead,  has  been  plucked  out  by  the  roots  on 
the  eve  of  her  wedding. 

But  to  return  to  the  streets  of  Peking.  How  I wish 
you  could  see  them  in  all  their  picturesqueness.  But 
if  you  want  to  do  that  you  will  have  to  make  haste,  for 
here,  as  elsewhere,  new  things  are  crowding  out  the 
old.  The  gorgeousness  of  the  scene  is  beyond  descrip- 
tion. There  are  the  shops  hung  with  red  lanterns  and 
gilded  scrolls,  and  the  upper  story,  if  there  is  one, 
ornamented  with  an  open  trellis-work,  reminiscent 
of  the  sides  of  a green-and-gilt  bird-cage ; the  street 
pedlar  in  his  blue  gown,  squatting  by  his  magic 
carpet  spread  with  wares ; a fruit-stall  ablaze  with 
shining  golden  persimmons,  scarlet  pomegranates,  and 
crimson  chillies  ; the  ever-moving  crowd  of  men 
in  gowns  of  blue  and  purple,  mauve  or  grey  ; the 
Manchu  women  in  long,  graceful  robes  of  rich 
dark  shades  of  silk,  and  wearing  the  Manchu  head- 

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China  as  I Saw  It 

dress  of  spreading  black  wings  and  bright  artificial 
flowers. 

The  broad  highway  is  thronged  with  a strange 
medley  of  creatures  and  vehicles,  from  the  familiar 
rickshaws  to  the  Pekingese  cart,  which  resembles 
a great  box  on  big  wheels,  covered  by  a hood  of 
brilliant  cornflower  blue.  In  wet  weather  there  is 
a blue  awning  as  well  as  the  hood,  but  the  hood  covers 
the  cart,  and  the  awning  covers  the  mule.  Then 
there  are  the  donkeys — magnificent  creatures — some 
of  them  jet  black,  and  arrayed  in  velvet  saddles  and 
rich  trappings ; and  the  fleet-footed,  long-tailed 
Mongolian  ponies — ridden  furiously.  Sometimes  one 
of  these,  with  a rider  in  long,  flowing  robes  wearing 
an  official  hat,  dashes  by  at  breakneck  speed.  This 
is  a messenger  from  the  palace  bearing  important 
despatches.  A European  motor-car  snorts  impatiently 
whilst  a bullock  wagon  stops  the  way,  and,  solemn 
and  unperturbed  in  the  midst  of  confusion,  long 
strings  of  supercilious  camels  step  by  haughtily  on 
their  “ indiarubber  ” feet,  looking  neither  to  the 
right  nor  to  the  left,  taking  no  interest  apparently 
in  the  affairs  of  this  world,  and  on  their  way  to 
the  next. 

The  strangest  touch  of  all  is  the  sudden  appearance 
of  a monstrous  traction  engine  from  Western  lands, 
which  reminds  one  of  Gulliver  among  the  Lilliputians, 
and  lumbers  down  noisily  into  the  tangled  crowd. 
At  the  corner  a man  is  watering  the  street,  ladling  the 
water  with  a large  wooden  soup-ladle  out  of  a big  tub 

64 


ENTRANCE  TO  BRITISH  LEGATION,  PEKING 


China  as  I Saw  It 

and  shedding  its  contents  upon  the  road — a spoonful 
at  a time  ! 

Some  of  the  roads  in  the  Tartar  city  are  of  immense 
width.  They  remind  one  of  the  aisles  in  a great 
cathedral,  a wide  centre  aisle  and  two  side  aisles, 
divided  possibly  by  a bit  of  rough  ground  or  a deep 
ditch  and  a line  of  booths.  Occasionally  a memorial 
arch  spans  the  centre.  There  is  a magnificent  white 
one,  elaborately  carved,  put  up  in  memory  of  the 
German  Ambassador  assassinated  in  1900.  The 
Chinese  believe,  and  always  will  believe,  that  it  was 
erected  in  honour  of  the  assassin. 

In  the  Chinese  city  the  streets  are  narrow,  the 
houses  squeezed  together,  and  the  colouring  more 
gorgeous  than  ever.  I went  there  to  try  and  match 
some  silk  and  had  a most  amusing  time.  The  streets 
are  mere  passage-ways  festooned  with  gay-coloured 
scrolls,  banners,  and  shop  signs  and  the  shops 
themselves  are  literally  ablaze  with  gilded  woodwork. 
Queer  little  shops  they  are,  too,  reminding  me  of 
the  toy  shops  of  my  childhood,  with  their  open  fronts, 
green  counters,  and  neat  little  rows  of  drawers  and 
shelves  at  the  back  of  the  little  green  counter,  and 
a neat  little  blue  calico  figure  squatting  on  the  ground 
in  front,  or  mounted  stiffly  on  a chair  with  a long  pipe 
in  his  hand. 

The  silk  shops,  of  which  there  are  many,  are  usually 
shops  in  which  little  or  nothing  is  displayed  for  the 
benefit  of  the  passer-by.  Behind  a long  counter 
a host  of  young  men  in  the  inevitable  blue  cotton 
f 65 


China  as  I Saw  It 


gowns  stand  about  with  no  particular  interest  in 
customers  either  present  or  future.  On  the  shelves 
at  the  back  there  may  be,  and  probably  are,  rolls  upon 
rolls  of  choice  silk  all  carefully  concealed  in  paper. 
It  requires  patience  and  a good  deal  of  careful  ex- 
planation before  anyone  can  be  sufficiently  interested 
to  take  the  trouble  to  show  you  anything  worth  look- 
ing at.  It  may  be  that  in  this  courteous  land  the 
request  has  been  unconsciously  couched  in  terms 
which  to  a Chinese  mind  are  lacking  in  politeness,  but 
the  fact  remains  that  the  answer  is  often  a negative 
one  when  very  possibly  the  thing  you  wish  for  is  there 
all  the  time  wrapped  up  in  paper  in  the  background. 

The  Chinese  City  lies  outside  the  Tartar  City,  and 
inside  the  Tartar  City  crouches  the  Forbidden  City, 
the  habitation  of  mystery  and  power  shut  away 
behind  its  walls — walls  the  “ colour  of  blood  that  has 
dried  ” — and  invisible  to  those  who  stand  without, 
forbidden  to  all  save  the  very  few,  yet  dominating 
the  whole  city  with  its  power  and  casting  over  all  the 
shadow  of  dark  tragedies  of  which  the  half  will  never 
be  told. 

Pierre  Loti  has  described  the  city  from  within. 
He  was  with  the  allied  troops  in  1900  ; the  Dowager- 
Empress  and  the  young  Emperor  had  fled,  the  Im- 
perial city  was  abandoned,  and  Pierre  Loti  took  up 
his  abode  for  a time  in  one  of  the  deserted  palaces. 
He  describes  the  ancient  temples  half  hidden  in  the 
great  woods  of  sombre  cypress  trees  and  cedars, 
and  the  fantastic  palaces  with  their  glittering  gilded 

66 


China  as  I Saw  It 


tiles,  the  famous  lotus  lake,  once  covered  with  rose- 
pink  flowers,  the  bridge  of  marble,  “ white  and 
solitary.” 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  the  woods,  he  comes  across 
a prison-like  fortress  with  double  ramparts  “ d’un 
rouge  de  sang  ” and  a moat  ninety  feet  wide  filled 
with  dead  and  dying  rushes.  And  this  is  the  “ Ville 
Violette,”  where  the  young  Emperor,  the  “ Son  of 
Heaven  ” (but  practically  a prisoner  in  his  own  palace), 
has  lived  through  his  dreary  days. 

Pierre  Loti  draws  a melancholy  picture  of  the 
Emperor’s  room — the  dim  light,  the  closely  sealed 
windows  of  rice  paper,  the  alcove  bed  with  its  cur- 
tains of  dusky  blue,  “ colour  of  the  night,”  the  absence 
of  seats,  of  books,  of  everything  save  dust  and  a few 
coffers  of  black  wood,  on  which  ornaments  under 
glass  globes  are  “ standing  pensively.”  The  air  is 
full  of  the  “ scent  of  tea  leaves  and  dried  flowers 
and  old  silk  ” — “ a colossal  tomb,”  he  calls  the  place. 

Deborah  and  I walking  outside  the  “ blood-red  ” 
walls  caught  sight  from  afar  off  of  one  of  the  palace 
roofs,  with  its  glittering  yellow  tiles,  and  would  fain 
have  peered  in  through  the  great  gates  to  see  what  we 
could  see,  but  while  still  some  twenty  yards  away,  an 
armed  soldier  stepped  forth  and  waved  us  imperiously 
aside. 

This  morning  we  came  on  one  of  those  melancholy 
scenes  which  recalled  again  the  shadow  of  the  city  of 
mystery. 

The  traffic  was  blocked  as  we  rode  down  one  of  the 

67 


China  as  I Saw  It 


principal  streets  in  our  rickshaws  by  a mournful  pro- 
cession of  Pekingese  carts  guarded  by  a body  of  soldiers 
with  unsheathed  swords.  How  many  carts  there  were 
I know  not,  but  there  seemed  a great  number,  and 
each  cart  was  full — crowded  with  men  in  chains,  on 
their  way  to  the  execution  ground  to  be  beheaded. 
Some  few  of  them,  strange  to  say,  looked  out  with 
interest  at  the  “ foreign  barbarians.”  Behind  the 
carts  one  poor  unfortunate,  already  tortured  almost 
out  of  existence,  was  being  carried  in  a basket  ! A 
melancholy  troop ! especially  when  one  realised  that 
very  possibly  quite  half  of  the  unhappy  victims  were 
wholly  guiltless  of  crime.  One  marvelled,  though, 
at  the  apparent  callousness  in  the  face  of  death  of 
those  who  craned  their  necks  to  see  us  pass  by.  It  is 
said  they  are  often  drugged  with  opium  or  stupefied 
with  wine  before  the  actual  execution  takes  place. 

There  is  less  cruelty  now  than  there  used  to  be 
in  the  time  of  Abbe  Hue,  who  describes  seeing  some 
prisoners  on  their  way  to  judgment — the  constables, 
having  forgotten  the  fetters,  nailed  the  prisoners’ 
hands  to  the  cart  ! 

Punishments  also  have  been  modified  somewhat  of 
late.  The  most  terrible  of  all  deaths — the  death  of 
the  hundred  cuts — has  been  abolished.  Those  who 
in  former  days  would  have  suffered  the  extreme 
penalty  of  the  law  are  now  beheaded,  those  who 
would  have  been  beheaded  are  strangled,  and  those 
who  would  have  been  strangled  are  condemned  to 
banishment.  A Chinese  would  far  rather  be  strangled 

68 


China  as  I Saw  It 


than  beheaded.  He  is  haunted  by  a dread  of  appear- 
ing in  the  next  world  in  a headless  condition.  It  is 
the  one  thing  he  fears.  Therefore  his  relatives,  for 
their  own  sakes  as  well  as  for  that  of  the  dead  man, 
follow  him  to  the  execution  ground,  and,  when  the 
authorities  permit,  sew  the  severed  head  back  on  to 
the  body  ! 

We  were  on  our  way  from  the  “ Temple  of  Heaven  ” 
when  we  met  this  procession  of  death.  I suppose  no 
one  goes  to  Peking  without  visiting  the  “Temple  of 
Heaven,”  and  though  I know  you  don’t  feel  a bit 
interested  in  temples,  I insist  on  telling  you  about 
this  one.  It  is  absolutely  unique — there  is  nothing 
like  it  anywhere.  It  ought  to  be  numbered  amongst 
the  wonders  of  the  world,  it  is  certainly  one  of  the 
wonders  of  China.  To  get  to  it  from  the  Tartar 
City  we  had  a long  drive  before  us,  through  the  Chien- 
Men,  one  of  the  finest  of  all  the  gates,  past  the  great 
wall  on  which,  by  the  way,  six  coaches  or  more  could 
drive  abreast,  out  into  the  Chinese  City,  and  away 
through  the  crowded  streets,  till  we  found  ourselves 
riding  along  a broad  yellow  sanded  road — the  road 
along  which  the  “ Son  of  Heaven  ” travels  on  those 
three  days  during  the  year  (summer  and  winter 
solstice  and  the  beginning  of  spring)  when  custom 
ordains  that  he  shall  intercede  for  the  sins  of  his 
people  at  the  “ Altar  of  Heaven.”  When  the  Em- 
peror passes,  it  is  as  it  was  in  Coventry  when  Lady 
Godiva  rode  through  the  streets,  and  all  “ must 
keep  within,  door  shut  and  window  barred.” 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


On  either  side  of  us  great  wooded  parks  slumbered 
behind  high  walls.  The  Imperial  road,  with  its  Im- 
perial yellow  sand,  seemed  never-ending.  Suddenly, 
however,  the  long  line  of  straight  wall  was  broken 
by  a temple  gateway.  Passing  through,  we  drove 
up  a grass-grown  roadway  under  the  trees,  through 
the  silent  park.  There  were  other  gates  to  pass — 
gates  innumerable,  but  at  the  next  gate  we  had  to 
dismount  from  our  rickshaws  and  go  the  rest  of  the 
way  on  foot.  A gang  of  Chinese  gate-keepers  barred 
the  entrance,  demanding  money.  Fortunately,  our 
companion  could  argue  the  matter  in  Pekingese. 
After  a stormy  scene  and  the  payment  of  an  infini- 
tesimal sum  she  contrived  to  get  the  doors  unlocked. 

We  were  all  expectant.  Now  at  last  we  should 
see  those  “ acres  of  polished  marble  ” of  which  we 
had  heard  so  much — but  not  a bit  of  it.  Before  us, 
raised  on  a flight  of  marble  steps,  stood  a circular 
temple,  one  blaze  of  enamelled  tiles  of  every  colour 
of  the  rainbow,  and  this  apparently  was  the  “ Hall 
of  Fasting,”  where  the  “ Son  of  Heaven  ” prays 
and  meditates  before  going  up  to  the  great  altar  to 
worship.  The  interior  of  this  radiant  building  was 
simplicity  itself — just  the  Emperor’s  seat,  an  ex- 
quisitely carved  screen,  an  ebony  “ tea-table,”  and 
nothing  more. 

We  passed  out  again  and  back  into  the  shadowy 
cypress  woods  and  the  pine-scented  atmosphere  and 
the  almost  death-like  stillness.  We  walked  on  and 
on,  a couple  of  silent  Chinese  leading  the  way.  We 

70 


From  a Photograph  by  E.  Murray. 


TEMPLE  OF  HEAVEN,  PEKING 


Page  70 


China  as  I Saw  It 


had  gone  some  distance,  when  suddenly  there  burst 
into  view  one  of  the  now  familiar  “ blood-red  ” 
walls,  edged  along  the  top  by  dazzling  porcelain  tiles 
of  blue  and  green  and  yellow,  but  chiefly  blue.  The 
shabby  door  under  an  arched  gateway  opened  at  our 
approach,  and  we  passed  through  into  the  “ Holy  of 
Holies.”  “ The  sun  in  his  course  looks  on  nothing 
built  with  hands  so  sublime  in  its  suggestions  as  the 
‘ Ara  Cceli  ’ of  Peking.”  That  is  what  a great  au- 
thority on  things  Chinese  has  said. 

How  shall  I describe  it  to  you  ? It  is  immense  ! 
two  hundred  and  ten  feet  wide  at  the  base,  ninety 
feet  at  the  top,  and  it  stands  in  solitary  magnificence, 
with  nothing  above  but  the  sky,  and  nothing  around 
but  the  grass — a great  altar  of  polished  marble, 
white  as  the  winter  snow,  rising  tier  above  tier  in 
circular  terraces,  with  beautifully  carved  balustrades. 
We  climbed  up  the  marble  steps  and  stood  on  the 
topmost  terrace,  a wide  open  space,  in  the  centre  of 
which  a single  round  stone  marks  the  spot  where  the 
Emperor  kneels  before  “ Shang-Ti,”  the  one  supreme 
God. 

But  even  as  the  present  form  of  worship  is  a cor- 
ruption of  the  old,  so  grass  and  weeds  and  sapling 
trees  have  pushed  their  way  through  the  marble 
slabs  of  the  altar  and  the  crevices  of  the  marble 
steps,  and  moss  and  lichen  cling  to  the  sculptured 
balustrades. 

Dr.  Martin  speaks  of  the  ritual  as  “ the  most  ancient 
now  observed  on  the  face  of  the  earth,”  with  a 

7i 


China  as  I Saw  It 


“ record  behind  it  of  forty  centuries.”  The  cere- 
mony in  these  days  is  somewhat  an  elaborate  one, 
whatever  it  may  have  been  in  days  gone  by.  On  the 
great  braziers  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  not  only 
are  animals  sacrificed,  as  in  old  Jewish  times,  but 
masses  of  rich  brocade  are  offered  up,  and  a beautiful 
piece  of  blue  jade  (symbolic  of  heaven)  is  cast  into 
the  fire  ! And  before  the  various  tablets  of  deceased 
Emperors  and  astral  bodies  lights  and  incense  are 
burnt  and  delectable  foods  are  placed. 

Strangely  at  variance  are  these  crude  rites  with  the 
simple  grandeur  and  reverent  atmosphere  of  the  sur- 
roundings. From  the  sacred  precincts  we  passed  on 
into  still  another  walled  enclosure,  to  visit  the  “ Pagoda 
Temple,”  on  a triple  platform  of  white  marble,  where 
the  tablets  of  deceased  Emperors  are  kept.  The 
outside  of  the  temple  shines  with  glittering  blue 
tiles  (symbolic  again  of  heaven),  and  the  inside 
is  exquisitely  lacquered  in  gold  and  scarlet.  It  is 
absolutely  empty  save  for  the  tablets  in  carved 
wooden  frames  around  the  walls.  These,  by  the 
way,  are  only  copies  of  the  real  tablets,  which  are 
preserved  in  sacred  seclusion  in  a closed  building  at 
the  back. 

We  retraced  our  steps  through  the  silent  cypress 
woods,  and  the  last  of  the  many  gates  clanged  to 
behind  us.  Sixteen  times  over  we  had  been  obliged 
to  produce  money  in  order  to  get  through.  Thanks 
to  our  Chinese-speaking  companion,  however,  ten- 
cent  pieces  had  answered  the  purpose  of  dollars. 

72 


From  a Photograph  by  Murray . 


China  as  I Saw  It 


The  “ Lama  Temple  ” was  a great  “ come  down  ” 
after  the  “ White  Altar.”  That,  too,  is  an  Imperial 
temple,  and  its  buildings  are  roofed  with  Imperial 
yellow  tiles.  They  are  said  to  shine  like  gold  in  the 
sunlight,  but  they  reminded  me  more  of  yellow- 
ochre  slabs.  The  great  buildings  round  the  paved 
courtyards  were  shabby  with  the  wear  and  tear  of 
five  hundred  years,  and  the  red  paint  (composed 
partly  of  pig’s  blood)  was  peeling  off  the  woodwork. 
The  Lama  priests  kept  cropping  up  behind  corners, 
dogging  our  footsteps,  barring  the  way,  and  whining 
for  money ; they  made  one  think  of  a growth  of  some 
horrible  fungi  ; their  degraded,  low-type  faces,  their 
diseased  appearance  and  dirty  apparel  were  repulsive. 

Dust  and  dirt  met  us  at  every  turn,  especially 
amongst  the  valuable  old  cloisonne  vases  and  the 
grotesque  idols  with  blackened  faces  which  loomed 
forth  from  shadowy  backgrounds.  The  pride  of  the 
“ Lama  Temple  ” is  a giant  image  of  Buddha  of  gilded 
wood  seventy  feet  high.  A staircase  leads  to  a gallery 
at  the  back  of  its  head  ; but  we  were  warned  not  to 
go  up  it,  as  the  Lama  priests  have  an  unpleasant  little 
way  of  locking  the  door  behind  one,  in  order  to  extort 
money. 

We  were  just  beating  our  retreat  when  a low, 
prolonged  boom  from  an  invisible  horn  announced 
the  approach  of  the  chief  Lama,  in  other  words,  the 
“ Living  Buddha.”  Our  persecutors,  the  whining 
priests,  ducked  down  behind  walls  and  corners  to 
make  themselves  as  invisible  as  possible,  but  the 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


“ Living  Buddha,”  a man  of  medium  height,  with  a 
small,  dark  face,  and  tired,  careworn  expression, 
passed  on,  turning  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left. 
He  wore  a dingy,  claret-coloured  robe,  wound  in 
loose  folds  around  him,  and  the  strange  Lama  hat 
made  of  tufts  of  yellow  wool  and  shaped  like  a gigantic 
coxcomb.  The  two  secondary  Lamas  who  followed 
in  his  steps  a minute  or  two  later  were  more  worldly 
than  their  chief.  They  made  no  secret  of  their 
interest  in  the  “foreign  barbarians,”  and  looked  us 
up  and  down. 

After  a while  the  embryo  Lamas  made  their  ap- 
pearance— boys  of  all  ages  in  mustard-yellow  gowns 
of  every  shade  of  colour  and  in  every  stage  of  wear — 
from  those  that  were  almost  brand  new  to  those  in 
tatters — and,  of  course,  the  inevitable  coxcomb  hat. 
The  boys  came  through  the  court  in  an  untidy 
crowd,  and  lined  up  outside  the  temple  into  which 
the  “ Living  Buddha  ” had  disappeared. 

Through  the  open  doors  we  could  catch  a glimpse 
of  the  secondary  Lamas  in  ornate  ecclesiastical  vest- 
ments passing  and  re-passing,  engaged  in  some  elaborate 
ritual  to  the  sound  of  monotonous  chanting.  After 
a while  the  pupils  entered  and  joined  in.  Poor  little 
“ Lama  ” boys — for  ever  dedicated  to  a life  which 
had  turned  out  creatures  of  the  type  of  the  “ fungi.” 
In  Mongolia,  so  they  tell  me,  every  family  is  called 
upon  to  give  up  one  of  its  sons  to  the  Church — hence 
there  is  a continual  supply  of  recruits. 

You  were  wondering  in  your  letter  where  we  should 

74 


China  as  I Saw  It 


go  in  Peking,  as  the  only  possible  hotel  is  so  expensive. 
At  the  last  moment  it  turned  out  that  Kay  had  friends 
here,  to  whom  she  gave  us  an  introduction,  and  we  are 
now  staying  with  them  in  a beautiful  old  Chinese 
house.  I expect  the  Chinese  call  it  a “ palace,”  but 
here,  as  elsewhere,  the  dark  days  of  1900  have  left 
their  traces.  This  stately  mansion  represents  “ in- 
demnity,” and  was  given  over  by  the  authorities 
to  take  the  place  of  a great  building  for  the  blind, 
which  was  razed  to  the  ground  by  the  Boxer  troops. 
And  the  “ blind,”  what  happened  to  them  ? All 
except  two,  who  escaped  as  beggars  to  Manchuria, 
were  massacred  cruelly  and  without  mercy  by  their 
own  countrymen  ! The  two  who  escaped  have  re- 
turned, and  are  helping  in  the  training  of  the  new 
pupils  in  the  new  institution. 

The  founder  of  the  old  institution  and  inventor  of 
the  first  (and  some  think  the  best)  system  by  which 
the  Chinese  blind  are  taught,  toils  on  patiently  as 
ever,  devoting  his  marvellous  talents  to  the  work 
to  which  he  has  given  the  best  years  of  his  life,  but 
the  tragedy  of  1900  has  left  its  indelible  mark. 

The  house  is  of  one-storied  buildings,  with  pic- 
turesque curved  roofs  built  around  paved  courtyards, 
some  of  which  are  bright  with  flower-beds,  and  some 
have  been  turned  into  quaint  rock-gardens,  where 
Lilliputian  hills,  fantastic  bridges,  and  rocky  dells 
play  at  “ make-believe.”  The  great  entrance  gates, 
with  the  gate-keeper’s  lodge,  are  round  mysterious 
corners  and  down  side  passages.  With  characteristic 

75 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Chinese  indirectness  one  is  obliged  to  enter  the 
precincts  by  an  unnecessarily  circuitous  route. 

Our  palatial  residence  opens  into  a fashionable 
residential  street — in  bad  weather  almost  impass- 
able, however,  with  deep  water  and  deeper  mud, 
and  at  all  times  the  receptacle  of  egg-shells  and 
potato  parings  and  decaying  vegetable  matter.  The 
public  highway  apparently  acts  as  a dustbin  to 
our  wealthy  neighbours.  The  street  is  a relic  of 
the  old  Peking,  which  is  so  rapidly  vanishing  away, 
and  there  is  a charm  about  it  in  spite  of  the  mud  and 
the  egg-shells  ! 

The  foreignised  Legation  quarter,  with  its  tidy 
kerb-stones  and  trim  acacia  trees,  the  raw  red  railway 
station,  the  European  bank,  American  stores — the 
improvements,  in  fact,  harmonise  with  old  Peking 
about  as  well  as  the  traction  engine  harmonises  with 
the  blue-hooded  mule-carts  and  the  velvet-saddled 
donkeys.  Western  civilisation,  like  the  traction  engine, 
is  lumbering  down  amongst  the  mule-carts  and  the 
donkeys. 

Peking  has  a great  future  before  it — that  is  what 
everyone  says.  And  though  there  are  very  few 
Celestials  who  will  admit  that  the  “ outside  King- 
dom man  ” has  come  to  stay,  there  are  very  many 
who  are  willing  to  accept  and  eager  to  make  use 
of  his  “ fire  carriages  ” and  his  “ lightning  breath  ” 
(electricity).  Meanwhile  one  stands  outside  the 
cannon-riddled  wall  at  the  end  of  the  British  Legation 
grounds  and  one  reads  over  again  the  words  inscribed 

76 


China  as  I Saw  It 


thereon,  “ Lest  we  forget.”  But  there  is  no  danger 
of  that  yet  awhile. 

I am  glad  to  say  there  are  still  a good  many  bits  of 
old  Peking  left.  The  country  outside  the  walls  of  the 
Tartar  City  in  the  direction  of  the  “ Bell  Temple  ” 
remains  as  “ Chinese  ” as  ever  it  was. 

Vast  flat  stretches  of  vegetable  fields,  roads  which, 
like  Topsy,  have  simply  “ growed,”  no  hedges,  hardly 
any  trees,  no  houses  except  an  occasional  “ cow-shed  ” 
behind  a wall,  which,  in  spite  of  appearances,  turns 
out  to  be  a human  habitation.  We  rode  for  six 
miles  on  velvet-saddled  donkeys,  sometimes  on  the 
road  and  sometimes  off  the  road — there  was  not 
much  to  choose  between  it  and  the  adjoining  fields — 
and  finally  made  a bee-line  to  the  temple  straight 
across  a gigantic  onion  garden,  and  whether  there 
exists  a more  trodden  way  in  or  not  still  remains  a 
mystery. 

The  Bell , you  must  know,  is  another  of  the  wonders 
of  China,  and  possibly  of  the  world.  But  to  an  old- 
time  Celestial  China  means  the  world — “ Tien-Hsia,” 
they  call  it  (literally  “ all  under  Heaven  ”). 

The  Bell  is  said  to  be  fourteen  feet  high — it  looked 
more — and  is  embossed  with  eighty  thousand  characters 
from  Buddhist  classics.  It  is  made  of  bronze,  the 
largest  bell — not  that  was  ever  cast — but  that  has 
ever  been  hung.  The  only  person  who  sounds  it 
is  the  “ Son  of  Heaven  ” himself,  who,  in  times  of 
great  drought,  repairs  to  the  temple  to  ring  the  bell 
and  pray  for  rain.  Custom  ordains  that  he  shall 

77 


China  as  I Saw  It 


remain  on  his  knees  until  the  rain  begins  to  fall : 
history  prefers  not  to  relate  whether  he  actually 
does  so  or  not.  He  has  been  there  this  year,  so  the 
priests  told  us — only  a few  months  ago.  They 
showed  us  the  suite  of  rooms  reserved  for  his  use — 
surprisingly  fresh  and  clean,  considering  the  state 
of  some  other  parts  of  the  temple — almost  dazzling, 
in  fact,  with  white  paper  and  white  paint,  and  white 
silk  scrolls  richly  embroidered.  We  dismounted  from 
our  donkeys  in  the  outer  court,  and  were  shown 
through  into  an  inner  courtyard,  and  given  tea  and 
salt  cakes  sprinkled  with  millet  seeds,  in  an  extra- 
ordinarily’' well-furnished  guest-hall.  The  keng,  or 
raised  brick  couch,  which  occupied  the  whole  of  one 
end  of  the  room  in  the  usual  style,  was  covered  in  rich 
blue  brocade  quilts.  There  were  priceless  bits  of 
old  china,  presents  from  Emperors  of  the  Ming 
dynasty,  on  black  ebony  stands,  ebony  chairs,  and 
carved  “ dower  ” chests  along  the  walls,  and  (a  very 
unusual  object  in  Chinese  rooms)  a large  full-length 
mirror,  in  which  first  the  chief  priest’s  servant,  and 
later  on  the  chief  priest  himself,  tried  on  the  cap  of 
the  young  Englishman  who  was  with  us,  admiring 
the  effect ! The  chief  priest  is  a very  important 
person.  He  belongs,  as  a rule,  to  some  influential 
family,  and  rules  over  the  temples  of  many  sur- 
rounding districts.  He  wore  very  unpriestlike  gar- 
ments, a gown  of  handsome  blue  silk,  a sleeveless 
jacket  of  black  brocade,  and  white  shoes,  which  prob- 
ably meant  that  he  was  in  mourning.  He  conducted 

78 


China  as  I Saw  It 


us  himself  to  the  Bell  tower,  and  up  the  dusty, 
rickety  stairs,  which  led  to  a narrow  wooden  plat- 
form, from  which  we  could  look  down  on  to  the  top 
of  the  great  bronze  monster  coated  with  the  dust 
of  five  hundred  years.  A small  hole  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  top  is  suggested  to  the  unwary  visitor 
as  a fit  destination  for  copper  coins.  A coin  thrown 
with  unerring  aim  will  strike  the  gong  and  make  it 
sound.  Needless  to  say,  however,  people  go  on 
throwing  and  throwing,  and  it  never  does  sound, 
but  temple  underlings  who  stand  below  gather  up 
the  copper  coins. 

The  chief  priest  showed  us  with  pride  a library 
in  an  upper  story  in  another  part  of  the  building, 
by  which  he  evidently  set  great  store.  Alas  ! the 
whole  place  was  literally  crumbling  with  dust,  the 
books,  the  tattered  wall-paper,  the  decayed  wood- 
work, the  broken  floor — all  in  “ one  brown  burial 
blent.”  Through  the  open  slats  of  windows,  where 
cobwebs  had  superseded  the  paper  panes,  a superb 
tree  with  vivid  scarlet  leaves  hung  over  the  broken- 
down  building  like  a canopy  of  flame. 

“ Hao  puh  hao  ? ” * asked  the  chief  priest,  meaning 
the  library. 

“ Hao  ! ” we  answered  truthfully,  meaning  the 
scarlet  tree. 

Our  time  in  Peking,  I grieve  to  say,  is  drawing  to 
an  end,  but  we  finish,  as  we  began,  with  a “ lucky 
day.” 

* “ Good  or  not  good  ? ” 

79 


China  as  I Saw  It 


I heard  sounds  of  jubilation  in  the  street  this 
morning,  and  looked  to  see  a gay  procession  coming 
along,  not  a wedding  this  time,  but  a funeral ! and, 
instead  of  the  bride’s  chair,  the  coffin  borne  on  the 
shoulders  of  a number  of  men,  gorgeously  draped  in 
rich  brocade.  The  band  played  lustily,  and  the 
gilded  drums,  like  gigantic  golden  persimmons, 
were  as  much  in  evidence  as  in  the  wedding  pro- 
cessions. Pekingese  carts  brought  up  the  rear,  and 
in  them  sat  the  mourners  dressed  from  head  to 
foot  in  white  sackcloth.  Every  relation,  near  and 
distant,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  on  these  occasions 
their  name  is  legion,  can,  if  they  come  to  the  funeral, 
demand  a complete  new  costume  of  white  sackcloth, 
and  very  becoming  it  is  to  them — far  more  so  than 
the  ubiquitous  blue. 

To  us,  however,  this  has  been  anything  but  a 
lucky  day.  All  the  best  hours  of  it  have  been  spent 
in — how  should  you  think  ? Why,  in  getting  our 
tickets  on  the  Belgian-Chinese  railway  from  Peking 
to  Hankow  ! 

We  furnished  ourselves  with  dollar  notes  for  the 
requisite  sum  at  the  bank.  Arrived  at  the  station, 
however,  all  the  notes,  except  those  on  the  Russo- 
Chinese  Bank,  were  promptly  refused  by  the  Chinese 
clerk.  No  tickets  could,  therefore,  be  bought  that 
morning.  We  made  another  pilgrimage  to  the  bank, 
changed  the  notes  for  heavy  rolls  of  Mexican  dollars, 
went  all  the  way  back  to  the  station  in  a springless  mule- 
cart,  alighted  somewhat  bruised  and  battered,  proffered 

So 


From  a Photograph  by  E.  Murray 1 


LAMA  TEMPLE,  PEKING 


Page  So 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  dollars  to  the  booking  office  factotum,  who  this 
time  could  not  refuse  to  take  them,  but  looked  at 
us  suspiciously,  and  asked  us  to  write  down  our  names 
in  full  ! Finally  the  tickets  were  produced,  and  then 
he  proceeded  to  punch  them,  but  the  punching 
machine  was  broken.  We  waited  patiently ; the 
afternoon  was  drawing  to  a close  when  he  finally 
handed  us  over  our  hardly  earned  possessions.  We 
congratulated  ourselves  on  having  listened  to  advice 
and  bought  our  tickets  beforehand  ! 

We  start  to-morrow,  and  when  I write  again,  we 
shall,  I hope,  be  eight  hundred  miles  further  on  our 
journey. 

Yours, 

V. 


G 


81 


Hankow, 

November  loth , 1907. 

Dear  Joan, 

China,  it  is  still  China,  the  very  heart  of  China, 
in  fact,  but  we  are  living  in  a foreign  settlement  again, 
and  the  streets  seem  drearily  commonplace  after  those 
wonderful  kaleidoscopes  of  colour  in  Peking.  The 
journey  down  through  the  provinces  of  Chili,  Honan, 
and  Hupeh  would  have  amused  you.  It  was  like  a 
journey  in  a dream,  so  strangely  unreal  did  that 
Belgian  train  seem  to  us  steaming  away  through 
inland  China,  across  the  vast  flat  stretches  of  vegetable 
fields  dotted  here  and  there  by  blue-gowned  peasants 
or  a scarecrow  tree,  a highly  cultivated  but  weirdly 
empty  country  ! On  rare  occasions  the  dark  line  of 
a city  wall,  like  the  wall  of  an  immense  prison,  showed 
up  some  distance  away,  for  the  Chinese  will  not  have 
the  “ iron  road  ” or  the  “ fire  carriages  ” any  nearer 
to  their  homes  than  they  can  help,  for  fear  of  “ evil 
influences,”  and  the  long  line  of  Chinese  soldiers 
ranged  along  the  platform  at  every  station  proves 
that  there  still  exists  a danger  of  active  opposition 
on  the  part  of  those  who  eye  with  suspicion  the  doings 
of  the  “ outside  Kingdom  man.” 

The  train  was  excellently  appointed.  We  travelled 
second  class,  for  they  say  the  only  difference  between 

82 


China  as  I Saw  It 


first  and  second  lies  in  carpet  versus  oilcloth.  Deborah 
and  I had  a compartment  to  ourselves,  next  door  to 
a pantry,  where  hot  water  could  be  obtained  at  any 
hour  of  the  day,  and  three  Chinese  boys  were  there 
to  wait  on  us.  When  we  returned  to  our  carriage  after 
our  evening  repast  in  the  dining-car,  we  discovered 
that  the  seats  had  been  neatly  transformed  into  beds, 
and  very  comfortable  beds  they  were ! 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  we  crossed  the  famous 
Yellow  River,  on  the  bridge  which  everybody  vowed 
a year  or  two  ago  could  never  be  constructed  with 
any  success.  The  shifting  sands  offered  great  diffi- 
culties. Finally  hollow  piles  were  buried  in  their 
depths,  and  other  piles  screwed  into  the  inside  of 
these  ; but  whether  the  structure  will  remain  firm 
or  not  time  alone  will  prove.  The  bridge  is  evidently 
still  treated  with  great  care  and  caution.  In  the 
early  days  of  its  existence  the  heavy  engine  was 
changed  to  a light  one  for  the  journey  across. 

The  train  stood  shivering  on  the  brink  of  the  river  a 
good  ten  minutes  or  so  before  venturing  over  (pre- 
sumably while  the  line  was  inspected),  and  when  it  did 
venture  it  crept  along  tremblingly  at  a timid  pace.  The 
bridge  was  brilliantly  lit  up  by  electric  light,  and  never 
have  I seen  a more  desolate  scene,  a great  waste  of 
water  and  barren  mud  flats,  which  must  at  times  be 
flooded  by  the  river.  I have  heard  it  said  that  the 
distance  of  the  mud  flats  and  the  river  combined  is 
seven  miles  across  at  one  particular  point.  The  Yellow 
River  goes  by  the  name  of  the  “ Chinese  Sorrow,” 

83 


China  as  I Saw  It 


as  I dare  say  you  know.  In  1852  it  changed  its  course 
entirely,  and  made  itself  a new  route  to  the  sea, 
many  miles  away  from  the  old.  In  1887  it  burst  its 
bonds  once  more  and  tried  to  force  a passage  to  the 
Yangtse,  but  was  brought  back  again  at  an  almost 
fabulous  expense.  The  common  belief  is  that  the 
day  will  come  when  it  will  revert  to  its  original 
bed. 

By  the  electric  light  we  could  plainly  see  the 
swirling  yellow  water,  too  rapid  to  admit  of  navigation, 
and  on  the  near  shore  one  lonely  patch  of  light  and 
the  shadow  of  a roof  pointed  out  the  site  of  a tiny 
foreign  bungalow,  the  solitary  home  possibly  of  some 
Belgian  engineer  ; a weirdly  dismal  habitation  be- 
tween the  mud  flats  and  the  whirling  water. 

Further  south  the  scenery  improved.  The  vegetable 
fields  had  disappeared  for  the  time  being,  and  the 
wooded  hills  on  the  borders  of  Hupeh  were  intersected 
by  terraces  half  under  water,  from  which  stubbly 
green  stalks  were  sprouting — our  first  sight,  this,  of 
rice  fields. 

The  next  afternoon,  exactly  thirty-two  hours  after 
leaving  Peking,  we  reached  Hankow ; but  the  wooded 
hills  had  vanished  long  ago,  the  whole  country 
was  half  submerged  in  water,  and  villages  of  melan- 
choly houses  built  on  piles  stood  in  the  midst  of 
swamps. 

The  platform  at  Hankow  swarmed  with  Chinese 
troops,  in  semi-Western  uniforms  of  bright  blue,  or 
black  with  red  pipings.  Three  military  bands, 

84 


China  as  I Saw  It 


formed  on  German  lines,  were  playing  lustily,  but 
unfortunately  they  had  each  of  them  chosen  a 
different  tune.  I dare  say  the  effect  was  considered 
“ all  the  more  Western.”  This  military  display 
was  in  honour  of  the  new  brigadier-general,  who 
had  come  down  on  the  train  from  Peking.  We 
had  noticed  him  in  the  dining-car,  with  his  sharp, 
bony  face  and  horn  spectacles  and  magnificently  em- 
broidered silk  gown.  The  long  peacock’s  feather 
dangling  from  his  red-buttoned  cap  showed  him  to 
be  an  official  of  high  standing. 

At  the  station  the  confusion  was  immense.  Shoals 
of  Yamen  servants  pushed  themselves  to  the  front  in 
the  overbearing,  blustering  way  characteristic  of 
Yamen  underlings.  The  luggage  van  seemed  public 
property.  People  invaded  it  from  every  side,  seizing 
their  belongings.  The  Chinese  entrust  their  goods 
to  it  in  the  most  confiding  way,  small  personal  objects 
unlabelled  and  unpacked  are  pushed  in  amongst  the 
boxes  and  bags.  I saw  one  of  the  official  troop 
fetch  out  a small  wicker  basket  containing  a couple 
of  pots  of  jam  ! 

We  arrived  at  our  destination  to  find  that,  owing 
to  our  delay  at  Teng-Cheo-Fu,  we  had  missed  the 
friends  who  were  to  have  escorted  us  up  the  Yangtse. 
The  only  thing  to  do  now  is  to  wait  here  until  some 
other  people  whom  we  know,  and  who  are  also  bound 
for  Szechwan,  come  up  the  river  at  the  end  of  the 
month. 

Again  I don’t  know  where  we  should  be  if  Kay 

85 


China  as  I Saw  It 


had  not  given  us  an  introduction  here  to  missionary 
friends  of  hers,  who  very  kindly  are  allowing  us  to 
stay  with  them. 


November  20th. 

Hankow  does  not  depress  me  as  much  as  it  did. 
When  we  first  arrived  it  rained  all  the  time,  and  had 
been  raining,  so  they  said,  for  a whole  month.  The 
swollen  river,  the  dripping  trees  along  the  Bund, 
the  European  houses  with  their  wet  plaster  walls, 
the  watery  roads,  and  the  bare  feet  of  the  drenched 
coolies  pattering  through  the  puddles  made  up  a very 
dreary  picture  ; but  when  the  rain  stopped  the  sun 
came  out,  and  the  sunshine  here  is  simply  glorious, 
so  much  hotter  and  so  much  brighter  than  it  ever  is 
in  England. 

The  garden  is  full  of  flowers,  in  spite  of  the  long 
downpour.  Geraniums  in  any  number,  plumbago 
and  violets  grown  in  pots  fill  the  air  with  fragrance, 
palms  and  bananas  adorn  the  beds.  Across  the  lawn 
stands  a magnificent  tree,  the  size  of  a big  laburnum, 
which  is  one  mass  of  double  pink  blossoms,  resembling 
in  form  and  colour  a pink  hollyhock  ; but  the  flowers 
fall  off  almost  as  soon  as  they  come  out,  which  has 
probably  earned  for  the  tree  the  sobriquet  of  “ puh 
iong  ” (“  no  use  ”).  The  old  gardener  whom  I 
questioned  as  to  its  real  name  could  give  no  help. 

86 


China  as  I Saw  It 

I found  his  information  peculiarly  limited  in  this 
respect. 

“ This  piece  call  what  ? ” I asked,  indicating  a 
violet. 

“ Blue  flower,”  he  answered. 

“ That  piece  call  what  ? ” I went  on,  pointing  to 
a geranium. 

“ Red  flower,”  he  answered. 

We  have  found  our  way  beyond  the  commonplace 
grey  stucco  houses  to  the  native  streets.  There  is 
one,  a particular  favourite  of  mine,  three  miles  long, 
and  like  a picturesque  arcade  most  of  the  way, 
splashed  with  gorgeous  colour.  The  hanging  scrolls 
and  sign-boards  from  the  low-roofed  houses  almost 
meet  overhead.  There  is  no  wheeled  traffic,  there 
is  no  room  for  any,  but  the  pavement  is  crowded 
with  pedestrians,  and  the  air  is  filled  with  shouts  of 
men  who,  bearing  burdens  on  bamboo  poles  slung 
across  their  shoulders,  cry  out  incessantly  for  room  to 
pass.  They  have  a way  of  saying,  “ Fish,  fish  ! ” or 
“ Oil,  oil ! ” whether  this  is  true  or  not,  so  that  the 
crowd,  fearing  to  soil  their  gowns,  instantly  stand  on 
one  side  for  them  to  go  by.  But  the  men  with  the 
sedan-chairs  yell  louder  than  the  burden-bearers  as 
they  force  their  way  ruthlessly  through  the  people, 
never  waiting  a moment  for  anybody. 

The  shops  are  of  every  variety,  mingled  indiscrimi- 
nately in  a way  characteristic  of  China.  A prosperous 
silversmith’s  stands  side  by  side  with  a dried  fish  shop, 
or  a little  sweetmeat  stall,  in  which  rice  toffee  and 

87 


China  as  I Saw  It 


sugared  monkey-nuts  hold  a prominent  position.  The 
more  unattractive  the  shop  the  more  high-flown  prob- 
ably the  motto  on  the  swinging  shop-sign.  Imagine 
the  dingiest  of  narrow  passages  described  as  the  “ Alley 
of  Virtuous  Prosperity,”  and  a second-hand  clothes’ 
shop,  “ Clothes’  Repository  for  Perpetual  Spring.” 
A medicine  store  promises  “Ten  Thousand  Years  of 
Life  ” to  its  customers.  A jeweller  announces  “ Peace 
to  All.”  And  a money-changer’s  masquerades  under 
the  title  of  “ Happy  Life.”  The  owner  of  a cloth 
shop  goes  so  far  as  to  assert  that  “ he  who  opens  an 
account  there  will  obtain  eternal  joy.” 

The  shops  themselves  are  full  of  surprises.  The 
walls  of  one  large  emporium  are  so  gorgeously  hung 
with  gay  scarlet  and  gold  scrolls  that  one  takes  it  for 
a scroll  shop ; not  a bit  of  it — its  stock-in-trade  turns 
out  to  be  beef,  pork,  and  lottery  tickets.  In  a funeral 
store,  amongst  the  magnificently  embroidered  funeral 
garments,  two  large  green  birds  are  standing  in 
flower-pots.  On  closer  inspection  we  discover  they 
are  ingeniously  made  of  small  yew  trees,  grown  and 
clipped  in  the  shape  of  birds.  The  bold,  staring  eyes 
and  lifelike  beaks  are  formed  of  some  artificial 
substance,  and  the  whole  effect  is  most  realistic. 

Hankow,  it  seems,  is  only  one  of  three  great  cities — 
Hankow,  Woochang,  and  Hanyang — and  the  three 
are  welded  into  one,  or  rather  the  one  is  divided  into 
three,  by  the  great  rivers  of  the  Yangtse  and  the  Han, 
which  join  forces  just  below. 

From  a high  ridge  on  the  further  side  of  the 

88 


GROTESQUE  GODS 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Han  River  one  can  obtain  a magnificent  bird’s-eye 
view  of  the  whole — the  wide  waters  of  the  rivers 
(the  Yangtse  alone  is  about  a mile  across),  the 
flooded  meadow  land,  and  the  sea  of  roofs.  At 
first  sight  there  seems  more  water  than  land.  Han- 
yang, to  the  right  and  the  left  of  us,  scarred  in  Western 
fashion  by  the  smoking  chimneys  of  the  biggest  iron- 
works in  China ; the  muddy  waters  of  the  Han, 
thronged  with  native  craft,  dividing  Hankow,  with 
its  flat  masses  of  roofs,  from  Hanyang  with  its  chim- 
neys ; while  the  River  Yangtse,  larger  and  even 
yellower  than  the  Han,  stretches  itself  at  ease  be- 
tween Hankow  and  Woochang. 

A Buddhist  temple  stands  in  solitary  grandeur  at  the 
far  end  of  the  ridge  on  a height  overhanging  the  river. 
A priest  in  a straw  hat  like  a parasol,  sitting  on  the 
threshold  of  one  of  the  arched  gateways  smoking  his 
water-pipe,  courteously  ushered  us  in  and  regaled  us 
on  tea  and  rice-flour  biscuits,  monkey-nuts  and  melon 
seeds.  Four  grotesque  gods,  with  vermilion  and  ultra- 
marine  faces,  viewed  us  from  afar,  and  in  the  courtyard 
a carved  serpent  coiled  round  an  enormous  stone 
turtle  * eyed  us  stonily.  We  asked  the  priest  for  an  ex- 
planation of  this.  He  could  give  none,  however.  It 
seems  they  very  seldom  can.  As  we  took  our  departure 
he  mildly  announced  that  the  Buddhist  and  Christian 
religions  were  practically  identical.  Possibly  he  does 
not  often  come  down  from  his  lonely  temple  on  the 
hill  to  see  what  the  rest  of  the  world  is  about. 

* Attributes  of  the  northern  god. 

89 


China  as  I Saw  It 

The  “ outside  Kingdom  ” doctrine  has  done  a great 
deal  for  Hankow  and  her  sister  towns.  Hospitals 
crammed  with  patients,  cottages  and  schools  crowded 
with  students,  preaching  chapels  thronged  with 
hearers,  and  a great  cathedral  in  which  the  trained 
choir  and  even  some  of  the  officiating  clergy  are  of 
Chinese  birth,  show  in  some  measure  the  results  of 
long  years  of  devoted  work.  It  has  been  a revelation 
to  me.  One  only  hears  half  the  story  at  home,  one 
needs  to  come  out  to  these  parts  to  hear  the  rest, 
though  the  story  is  not  finished  yet,  not  by  a long 
way,  but  it  grows  in  interest. 

We  went  over  to  Woochang  the  other  day,  ferrying 
across  the  river  in  a sampan.  We  took  one  of  the 
Chinese  “ boys  ” with  us.  A Chinese  is  nothing  if 
not  practical.  He  seized  this  opportunity  of  plenty 
of  water  to  be  had  for  nothing,  and  busied  himself 
washing  his  “ sheo-jin  ” (handkerchief).  The  “ sheo 
jin  ” is  a valuable  possession.  It  is  used  for  mopping 
the  face,  drying  the  hands,  for  holding  provisions, 
and  for  tying  over  the  head  to  keep  off  the  sun — for 
anything,  in  fact,  except  the  purpose  for  which  we  use 
it  ourselves. 

In  Woochang  we  went  to  see  the  big  American 
college  in  which  so  many  mandarins’  sons  are  being 
educated.  In  the  early  days  boys  were  paid  to  come, 
and  now  they  clamour  for  admission  ; and  the  fees 
charged  are,  from  a Chinese  point  of  view,  very  fairly 
substantial.  The  college  is  conducted  as  far  as  possible 
on  the  lines  of  an  English  public  school.  We  were 

90 


China  as  I Saw  It 


shown  a library  where  English  books  by  standard 
authors  lined  the  shelves.  The  boys  may  take  a 
certain  number  back  to  their  homes  in  the  holidays, 
and  read  as  many  as  they  like,  of  course,  during  the 
term  time.  Their  taste  is  much  more  serious  than 
that  of  English  or  American  boys.  As  to  novels,  in 
American  parlance,  they  have  “ no  use  for  them 
whatever.” 

From  the  college  we  went  on  to  a school  for  girls, 
a more  humble  institution,  but  one  which  I am  sure 
does  an  infinite  amount  of  good.  Some  sad  cases 
were  pointed  out  to  us,  which  made  one  realise  for 
the  hundredth  time  something  of  the  miseries  to  which 
Chinese  children,  more  especially  girls,  are  so  often 
subjected.  One,  a sweet-faced  maiden,  is  engaged 
to  be  married  to  a leper.  All  the  school  authorities 
can  do  is  to  delay  the  marriage  as  long  as  possible.  In 
China,  apparently,  leprosy  constitutes  no  “ cause  or 
just  impediment.”  Another,  a bonny  child,  is  the 
daughter  of  lepers.  And  a third  was  once  a slave, 
who  was  horribly  burnt  by  her  owner,  the  wife  of 
a wealthy  fortune-teller,  and  afterwards  buried  alive 
in  a wall,  where,  fortunately,  she  was  discovered  by 
friends  before  it  was  too  late,  and  brought  back  to, 
at  all  events,  a certain  degree  of  health  in  the  Mission 
Hospital.  An  English  child  would  hardly  have  sur- 
vived, but  the  Chinese  possess  great  vitality  and 
“ power  of  recuperation,”  and,  considering  their  in- 
difference to  matters  of  common  hygiene,  are  aston- 
ishingly long-lived.  They  even  seem  to  thrive  on  in- 

91 


China  as  I Saw  It 


sufficient  and  sometimes  unwholesome  food.  I have 
been  told  of  men  who,  in  a state  of  poverty,  try  to 
make  their  “ meals  ” last  out  longer  by  eating  them 
half  cooked,  so  as  to  prolong  the  process  of  digestion. 
They  can  certainly  achieve  with  impunity  that  which 
would  probably  be  the  end  of  all  things  to  a Westerner, 
and  can  eat  the  flesh  of  a dog  that  has  died  by  strych- 
nine poisoning  with  no  evil  results. 

According  to  general  opinion,  the  Chinese  are  curi- 
ously insensible  to  pain.  A Cantonese  of  wide  experi- 
ence tells  me  this  is  more  noticeable  among  northerners 
than  southerners.  He  remembers  a species  of  “ game  ” 
played  by  the  youths  in  a northern  town  in  which  they 
vied  with  each  other  as  to  who  should  slash  off  the 
biggest  piece  of  flesh  from  their  own  limbs.  It  is 
very  certain  that  the  women  must  suffer  horribly  from 
their  bound  feet,  yet  they  hobble  about  with  un- 
affected cheerfulness.  In  one  case  that  I heard 
of,  the  nails  of  the  toes  pressed  under  the  con- 
tracted sole  had  forced  their  way  up  through  the 
flesh. 

The  unrestrained  cruelty  in  these  heathen  lands 
would  make  you  shudder.  Not  far  from  this  place 
there  lived  two  brothers.  The  elder  having  no  son 
was  permitted  by  Chinese  law  to  adopt  his  brother’s 
child  as  his  own.  The  father  of  the  boy  in  question 
caused  both  the  child’s  legs  to  be  broken,  in  order  to 
thwart  his  brother  by  every  means  in  his  power.  Not 
long  after  the  “ offended  gods,”  so  the  people  said, 
“ took  their  revenge.”  In  the  sudden  collapse  of  a 

92 


China  as  I Saw  It 


wall  the  father  of  the  injured  boy  was  severely  crushed 
and  both  his  legs  cut  to  pieces. 

At  Woochang  a high  green  ridge,  called  the  “ Ser- 
pent Hill,”  divides  the  town  into  two  parts.  Not 
so  very  long  ago  an  enterprising  official  made  a cutting 
through  the  top  of  the  hill  to  accommodate  a carriage 
road.  Hardly  was  it  completed  when  he  fell  ill  with 
a painful  disease  of  the  ear.  It  was  represented  to  him 
that  the  serpent,  in  indignation  at  having  a hole 
made  in  his  back  for  the  sake  of  such  a paltry  thing 
as  a carriage  road,  had  sent  this  illness  by  way  of 
punishment.  In  alarm  the  official  instantly  gave 
orders  that  the  cutting  should  be  filled  in  and  the 
carriage  road  done  away  with,  and,  needless  to  say, 
he  instantly  recovered  his  lost  health. 

We  walked  up  the  grass-grown  slope,  where  there 
are  still  traces  of  the  road  to  be  seen.  At  the  foot  of 
the  hill  a tangled  mass  of  buildings,  flaunting  brilliant 
yellow  flags,  were  pointed  out  to  us  as  barracks, 
decorated  in  honour  of  the  Empress’s  birthday,  which 
is  a movable  feast,  according  to  the  fancy  of  the 
fortune-tellers,  who  have  to  decide  on  a lucky  day. 
A few  weak-kneed,  depressed-looking  horses,  with 
protruding  ribs — the  “ cavalry  mounts  ” — were  lined 
up  outside  the  barracks. 

Talking  of  roads,  still  another  enterprising  official 
over  here  at  Hankow  had  the  brilliant  idea  of  flatten- 
ing down  one  of  the  city  walls  and  turning  it  into 
a causeway  a mile  or  so  long,  across  low-lying  ground 
between  Hankow  and  the  River  Han.  Fortunately, 

93 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  dragon  expressed  no  disapproval,  and  the  road 
has  been  allowed  to  remain.  We  drove  along  it  one 
day,  enjoying  the  sights.  In  a shallow  stretch  of  water 
men  were  floundering  about,  diving  down  and  up 
again.  It  seems  they  were  catching  fish,  and  by 
imitating  the  antics  of  the  creatures  themselves,  they 
succeeded  in  disarming  suspicion  and  enticed  them 
into  their  clutches.  One  popped  out  of  the  water 
just  as  we  were  passing  with  a big  fish  held  between 
his  teeth  ! 

The  open  stretches  of  land  where  the  floods  had 
subsided  were  gay  with  colour.  Long  lengths  of 
blue  and  indigo  cloth,  just  freshly  dyed,  lay  drying 
on  the  ground  ; red  silk  was  being  wound  across 
skeleton  clothes-horses  on  to  gigantic  wooden  reels ; 
and  further  on  whole  fields  were  spread  from  end  to 
end  with  magenta,  pink,  and  yellowy-brown  paper, 
and  amongst  the  paper,  coffins  new  and  coffins  old, 
coffins  the  right  side  up  and  coffins  half  turned  over, 
were  scattered  about  promiscuously,  whether  waiting 
for  burial  or  occupation  we  were  too  far  off  to  decide. 

The  road  ended  in  a transformation  scene.  Native 
dwellings,  swamp  lands,  coffins,  and  scenes  of  primitive 
industry  changed  all  of  a sudden  into  a “ Western  ” 
suburb  of  bricks  and  mortar,  factories  and  chimneys 
side  by  side  with  the  great  rolling  river  of  the  Han, 
“ too  full  for  sound  and  foam,”  and  a jumble  of  boats, 
junks,  sampans,  fishing  craft,  and  cargo  vessels  hugging 
the  shores. 

The  factories  and  chimneys  announce  the  influence 

94 


China  as  I Saw  It 


of  the  “outside  Kingdom  man,”  but  modern  machinery 
by  no  means  always  appeals  to  the  Chinese.  Someone 
was  telling  me  the  other  day  of  a new  invention  which 
was  submitted  to  the  head  mandarin.  It  had  the 
supreme  advantage  of  needing  the  services  of  one 
man  only,  and  of  doing  the  work  of  a hundred.  His 
Excellency,  however,  considered  this  a supreme  dis- 
advantage. A machine  that  would  give  employment 
to  a hundred  men  instead  of  one  would  be  more  to 
the  point,  he  said,  and  he  would  be  prepared  to  con- 
sider any  invention  of  this  kind. 

Some  of  the  native  methods  of  preparing  goods 
for  market  are  said  to  be  wonderfully  efficacious, 
though  absurdly  simple.  We  passed  a man  this  morn- 
ing who  was  pressing  out  new  cloth.  A roll  of  the 
cloth  on  a gigantic  wooden  reel,  placed  on  a stone 
slab,  was  weighed  down  by  a block  of  granite  shaped 
like  a big  “V.”  On  the  top  of  this  a man  balanced 
himself  by  holding  on  to  a beam  above  his  head, 
and  slowly  rocked  the  “V ’’-shaped  block  from  side 
to  side  with  his  two  feet.  The  result,  they  said,  was 
excellent. 

We  have  been  investing  in  native  wares  for  our 
journey  up  the  river.  Were  there  ever  a people  who 
could  provide  so  economically  and  yet  so  efficiently 
for  their  comforts  ? Deborah  and  I have  purchased 
a couple  of  foot-stoves  for  about  two  shillings  apiece, 
brass  baskets  with  perforated  lids  and  large  handles, 
ten  or  twelve  inches  in  diameter  and  six  or  seven  inches 
in  depth,  which,  when  carefully  filled  with  wood  ash 

95 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  some  burning  knobs  of  charcoal,  will  last  for 
hours  and  keep  one  splendidly  warm.  The  Chinese 
hold  them  sometimes  inside  their  outer  garments, 
warming  themselves  back  and  front,  and  creating, 
as  you  may  well  imagine,  a most  peculiar  effect  of 
deformity.  Furthermore,  we  have  fitted  ourselves 
out  with  “ pu  k’ai,”  native  quilts  wadded  with  cotton- 
wool ; but,  alas  ! we  did  not  take  a native  with  us  to 
“ talk  price,”  and  flattered  ourselves  we  could  make 
this  simple  purchase  on  our  own  account. 

We  selected  an  attractive  “ pu  k’ai  ” shop,  and  chose 
a couple  of  nice  clean-looking  quilts,  with  glaring 
covers  of  cotton  cloth,  and,  having  found  the  price 
considerably  less  than  we  expected,  we  returned 
triumphantly  with  our  purchases.  Our  hostess  looked 
at  them  suspiciously,  and,  unpicking  a few  stitches, 
pointed  out  to  us  that  the  shopman  had  had  the  best 
of  the  bargain — the  cotton-wool  was  full  of  black 
specks  and  horrible  suggestions.  The  cover  was  new, 
and  that  was  all ! 

We  made  a second  journey  to  the  shop,  with  one  of 
the  serving  women  in  attendance.  I expected  a 
stormy  scene,  but  I was  not  versed  in  Oriental  methods. 
The  serving  woman  gently  and  sweetly  made  a 
seemingly  polite  remark  about  their  sign-board. 
The  magic  words  took  instant  effect.  The  shopman 
smilingly  produced  the  money  we  had  paid  and  re- 
ceived his  goods  back  again  without  a word  of  re- 
monstrance. 

Our  next  attempt  at  bargaining  was  in  a china  shop. 

96 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Our  guide,  the  serving  woman  once  more,  said  she 
would  take  us  to  one  that  she  could  recommend  in 
the  three-mile  street.  She  stopped  before  a strange- 
looking  place,  in  which  quite  half  the  stock-in-trade 
consisted  of  ropes  and  crabs,  and  the  whole  staff  was 
sitting  round  a table  with  their  basins  and  chop-sticks, 
eating  a late  breakfast.  So  indifferent  were  they  to 
the  presence  of  customers  at  this  inauspicious  moment 
that  they  merely  stared  at  us  wonderingly  and  went 
on  with  their  food.  We  went  round  the  shelves  and 
helped  ourselves,  bringing  the  things  to  the  counter 
to  “ talk  price.”  The  breakfast  party  bestirred  itself 
at  this  juncture,  and  the  discussion  became  animated. 
Meanwhile  the  serving  woman  sat  on  a high  chair, 
resting  her  maimed  feet,  and  smiled,  and  the  smile 
went  round  the  shop.  It  occurred  to  us  afterwards 
that  she  had  taken  this  opportunity  of  doing  her 
“ tsin  tsih  ” (relatives)  a good  turn,  as  we  discovered 
later  that  all  the  best  china  shops  were  in  another 
part  of  the  town. 

Hankow  simply  hums  with  industry.  The  air  is 
full — morning,  noon,  and  eve — of  the  see-saw  chant 
of  the  coolies  as  they  trot  patiently  up  and  down  the 
roads  to  and  from  the  river,  bearing  great  burdens  of 
cotton-wool  and  cloth  and  tea.  Wherever  one  goes 
there  are  coolies  carrying  burdens,  long  lines  of  them, 
and  each  one  is  chanting  first  a high  note,  then  a low 
note,  in  varying  keys.  Everyone  seems  busy,  and  nearly 
everyone  is  in  a hurry.  Even  the  women,  with  their 
stiff  “ wooden  ” legs,  ending  off  in  knobs  and  looking 

H 97 


China  as  I Saw  It 


like  ninepins  in  trousers,  hobble  along  at  a mar- 
vellously quick  pace. 

The  weather  is  growing  colder.  The  rainy  season 
ended  in  June  sunshine,  the  June  sunshine  passed 
with  a rapid  swerve  to  winter  cold. 

By  this  time  our  preparations  are  almost  complete. 
We  have  got  our  bedding,  our  foot-stoves,  our 
washing  basins,  our  plates  and  spoons,  our  candles 
and  lanterns,  and  the  last  week  in  November  will  find 
us  on  the  river. 

Deborah  gets  rather  depressed,  and  people  marvel 
at  us  for  proposing  a trip  up  the  Yangtse  merely  for 
pleasure.  It  seems  that  the  friends  whom  we  were 
to  have  gone  with  started  when  the  water  was  too 
high,  and  have  been  badly  wrecked.  They  have  lost 
their  boat  and  spoilt  all  their  things.  But  wrecks 
are  such  common  events  on  the  upper  Yangtse  that 
nobody  seems  particularly  surprised. 

Yours, 

V. 


98 


ICHANG, 

November  28 tb. 

Dear  Joan, 

Friday,  Saturday,  Sunday,  and  Monday  we 
travelled  by  steamer  from  Hankow  to  Ichang,  and 
now,  I am  glad  to  say,  we  have  finished  with  steamers 
for  some  months  to  come,  as  they  can  go  no  further. 
Of  all  the  dreary,  weary  journeys,  those  four  days 
from  Hankow  to  Ichang  were  about  the  worst.  The 
scenery  was  a study  in  sepia — a brown,  mud-stained 
river,  low,  mud-built  banks,  occasional  sodden  clumps 
of  mud  - and  -wattle  huts,  a drab-coloured  pagoda, 
mournful  and  solitary,  and  now  and  again  a water 
buffalo,  bearing  on  its  solid  back  a muffled  figure 
hunched  up  beneath  an  oil-paper  umbrella. 

The  weather  was  as  drab-coloured  as  the  scenery, 
the  steamer  smelt  of  paint,  and  the  food  came  out  of 
tins.  Only  five  people  besides  our  two  selves  were 
travelling  “ foreign.”  Below  stairs,  however,  there 
were  masses  of  Chinese  passengers,  who  apparently 
do  not  mind  how  they  travel,  and  are  satisfied  with 
very  little  more  than  standing  room. 

When  we  first  arrived  here  the  cold  considerably 
damped  our  ardour.  The  house  in  which  we  are 
staying  is  planned  with  a view  to  coolness  in  summer 
rather  than  warmth  in  winter.  I started  my  Chinese 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


foot-stove,  but  being  a novice  in  these  matters,  burnt 
holes  in  my  shoes  and  large  pieces  out  of  my  skirt. 

We  imagined  we  should  be  off  at  once  on  the  house- 
boat journey,  but  it  seems  this  sort  of  thing  cannot 
be  done  in  a hurry — not,  at  least,  in  China.  The 
selection  of  the  boat  and  the  bargaining  over  the 
price  is  a long  and  tedious  business.  Out  on  the  river 
the  boats  lie  side  by  side  in  their  hundreds,  but  it 
takes  an  expert  to  know  which  to  choose  and  how 
much  money  to  offer  for  it.  Then  ensues  a good  deal 
of  bother  over  the  cargo,  which  has  to  be  passed 
through  the  Customs,  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  P.,  who  have 
kindly  promised  to  escort  us  up  the  river,  are  taking 
a large  quantity  of  stores,  etc.,  from  the  coast.  Finally 
the  boatman  must  decide  on  a lucky  day  on  which  to 
start. 

Deborah  and  I,  meanwhile,  finding  everybody  busy 
except  ourselves,  have  plenty  of  time  in  which  to 
explore  Ichang.  Even  here,  a thousand  miles  up  the 
Yangtse,  there  is  quite  a little  colony  of  foreigners, 
and  at  this  end  of  the  town  the  tumble-down  native 
shops  are  interspersed  by  trim  foreign  buildings — 
Custom  House,  post  office,  hospital,  etc.  When  these 
are  passed,  however,  the  scene  changes,  and  one  finds 
oneself  in  the  usual  narrow  street,  five  or  six  feet 
wide,  amongst  the  now  familiar  tiny,  open-fronted 
shops. 

The  dingiest  of  these  are  the  tea  shops  (another 
point  of  contrast  with  Western  lands).  They  are 
made  as  uninviting  as  possible,  reminding  one  of  a 


IOO 


China  as  I Saw  It 


broken-down  shed  with  the  front  taken  out — black 
rafters  in  the  darkness  overhead,  black  mud  on  the 
uneven  floor  below.  Around  the  unadorned  tables 
there  are  forms  to  sit  upon,  or  high  stools,  and  the 
only  crockery  consists  of  small  basins,  and  the  only 
food  of  weak  tea — with,  as  you  know,  neither  sugar 
nor  milk.  The  unsophisticated  Chinese  loathes  milk, 
and  says  that  the  “ outside  Kingdom  man  smells  of 
milk  and  soap,”  rather  a clean  smell  according  to  our 
notions,  but  to  them  it  is  objectionable.  The  res- 
taurants are  like  the  tea-shops,  except  that  the  basins 
are  more  in  number,  and  filled  with  a mixture  of  rice 
and  choppcd-up  vegetables,  plus  a little  fish  and 
pork. 

In  a shop  tidier  than  the  rest  I asked  the  price  of 
a couple  of  exquisite  china  vases.  They  were  not  for 
sale,  they  said,  and  I gathered  that  this  was  a medicine 
store  and  my  exquisite  vases  contained  drugs  ! 

The  cotton-wool  shops  are  immensely  attractive. 
Every  available  space  is  covered  by  the  great  drifts 
of  snowy-white  wool,  which  is  sold  at  about  fivepence 
a pound. 

But  the  residences  in  the  narrow  streets  are  palatial 
in  comparison  with  the  houses  on  the  shore,  which 
the  fisher-folk  are  busy  just  now  putting  together. 
They  are  fragile  structures,  built  of  bamboo  poles 
and  bits  of  matting,  and  seem  curiously  inappropriate 
to  the  coldest  season  of  the  year.  During  the  summer 
months,  when  the  river  is  high,  the  shore  is  completely 
submerged.  Three  weeks  ago  it  was  all  under  water, 


IOI 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  in  six  months’  time  the  river  will  rise  again,  and 
half  the  bamboo  poles  and  matting  will  be  carried 
away  by  the  swift  current.  Under  the  circumstances 
it  seems  strange  that  anyone  should  think  it  worth 
while  to  build  at  all.  With  surprising  lack  of  foresight 
in  so  practical  a people  they  generally  wait  just  twelve 
hours  too  long.  The  water  rises,  and  they  lose  what 
they  might  otherwise  have  saved. 

Yesterday  evening  our  host,  knowing  we  should 
like  to  see  as  much  as  possible  of  all  sides  of  life  in 
China,  took  us  with  him  to  one  of  the  opium  dens. 
The  streets,  mysterious  at  the  best  of  times,  were 
distinctly  weird  at  night.  The  houses,  yawning  like 
black  caverns,  seemed  alive  with  people,  of  whose 
presence  we  were  vaguely  conscious.  The  narrow 
streets  were  thronged  with  shadows,  dead  and  alive — 
dense  black  shadows,  where  no  light  penetrated,  and 
moving  shadows  of  human  beings  passing  from  the 
wan  light  of  a native  lamp,  a burning  wick  in  a saucer 
of  oil,  or  a red  candle  in  a paper  lantern,  into  the 
darkness.  Nearly  every  shop  boasted  a light  of  some 
kind,  more  or  less  inadequate.  In  one  or  two  of  them 
the  evening  meal  was  in  progress.  The  street  seemed 
to  be  public  property,  and  at  one  point  our  way  was 
obstructed  by  a supper-table  with  a family  party 
gathered  round  it,  out  on  the  pavement. 

Even  so  it  was  evident  that  the  day’s  work  was  not 
yet  over.  At  one  particularly  well-lighted  corner  a 
street  reader  had  gathered  an  attentive  audience. 
These  men,  who  expound  or  read  aloud  the  Chinese 


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China  as  I Saw  It 


classics,  are  usually  employed  by  someone  who  desires 
thereby  to  accumulate  merit  in  the  next  world  ! In 
the  blacksmiths’  forges  men  were  still  hard  at 
work.  One  queried  when  the  day  would  be  over  for 
these  busy  sons  of  toil.  It  was  the  second  watch  of 
the  night.  The  night  watchman  sounded  his  gong 
to  that  effect  as  he  passed  along  the  street,  yet  the 
workers  were  still  working,  and  the  very  children 
were  not  in  bed.  A burning  incense  stick  made  a 
pathetic  little  point  of  light  on  the  ground  in  front 
of  most  of  the  shops.  It  was  stuck  into  the  crevices 
of  the  wall,  and  was  held  competent  to  keep  off  evil 
spirits  ! 

In  a patch  of  shadow  we  arrived  at  our  opium 
den — a narrow  doorway  screened  by  thick  hanging 
curtains  from  the  eyes  of  passers-by.  We  raised  the 
curtains  and  went  in,  our  host  leading  the  way.  The 
room — long,  low,  and  narrow — was  crowded  with 
people  reclining  at  full  length  on  hard  couches,  wide 
enough  to  accommodate  two  at  a time,  and  between 
the  two  a small  wooden  stand  held  a couple  of  lamps 
with  glass  bowls  the  size  of  a lemon,  and  several  small 
squares  of  paper  on  which  reposed  tiny  lumps  of 
sticky  black  stuff,  something  like  hot  sealing-wax  in 
consistency.  One  of  the  smokers  rolled  a bit  of  it 
between  his  fingers,  holding  it  close  to  the  light  of 
the  lamp.  He  was  still  smoking  his  water  tobacco 
pipe,  but  his  opium  pipe  lay  ready  to  hand. 

In  many  of  the  big  towns,  I am  told,  the  opium 
dens  have  been  closed,  but  at  Ichang  nothing  has 

i°3 


China  as  I Saw  It 


been  done  in  this  way  as  yet.  Owing,  however,  to 
the  heavier  taxes  and  restrictions  of  one  kind  and 
another,  the  “ foreign  medicine,”  as  they  call  it, 
has  increased  considerably  in  price. 

In  our  particular  den  the  evening’s  orgy  had  evi- 
dently only  just  commenced.  The  men  on  the  divans 
were  still  sufficiently  alert  to  take  a great  interest  in 
our  movements,  and  were  a long  way  off  as  yet  from 
that  horrible  state  of  conscious  paralysis  when,  as 
De  Quincey  puts  it,  “ the  opium  smoker  lies  under  a 
world’s  weight  of  incubus  and  nightmare  ...  he 
would  fain  lay  down  his  life  if  he  might  rise  and  walk, 
but  he  is  powerless  as  an  infant,  and  cannot  so  much 
as  make  an  effort  to  move.” 

Our  host  had  brought  some  papers  on  the  “ outside 
Kingdom  doctrine.” 

“ Can  you  recognise  character  ? ” he  asked.  (In 
other  words,  “ Can  you  read  ? ”) 

“ Renteh,  renteh  ! ” they  answered  (“  Can  recog- 
nise ”),  and  eagerly  stretched  forth  hands  to  receive 
any  that  were  offered. 

The  people  of  Ichang  seem  quite  kindly  disposed 
towards  the  foreigners  in  these  days.  Only  a 
very  few  years  ago,  however,  in  the  great  drought 
of  1900,  things  were  different.  The  townsfolk  re- 
sorted to  every  device  that  commended  itself  to 
their  superstitious  minds  in  order  to  persuade  the 
gods  to  give  them  rain.  The  idols,  however,  refused 
to  be  propitiated.  Tears,  prayers,  sacrifices,  were 
alike  unavailing.  At  last  it  was  suggested  that  the 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


entire  population  should  be  made  to  laugh , so  that 
the  gods,  seeing  their  indifference  to  trouble,  should 
be  won  over  ! 

In  order,  therefore,  to  bring  about  this  state  of 
general  hilarity  a dog  was  dressed  up  as  an  old  man 
and  carried  through  the  streets  to  arouse  laughter. 
It  is  hardly  to  be  wondered  at,  perhaps,  that  the 
gods  remained  obdurate.  By  this  time  riots  were 
commencing.  Blame  fell,  as  usual,  on  the  foreigners, 
and  two  Roman  Catholic  priests  were  killed.  The 
Catholic  bishop  demanded  compensation,  but  the 
compensation  was  not  forthcoming;  thereupon  he 
gave  orders  that  the  bodies  of  the  murdered  men 
should  not  be  buried,  but  installed  in  the  “ Temple 
of  the  City  God,”  until  proper  reparation  had  been 
made.  The  people  rose  up  indignantly  at  the  insult 
to  the  “ God  of  the  City,”  and  bore  the  bodies  away. 
The  god,  in  gratitude  to  his  supporters,  so  the  story 
goes,  granted  their  prayers  for  rain  ! 

To-morrow  I hear  we  are  to  start  up  the  river. 
This  afternoon  our  two  last  preparations  were  made  ; 
we  invested  in  velvet  boots  and  silver  shoes.  This 
sounds  like  an  episode  out  of  Cinderella.  The  velvet 
boots,  of  course,  are  to  wear.  They  are  wadded  and 
beautifully  warm,  but  turn  up  at  the  toes  like  the 
curved  roofs  of  the  houses,  and  are  horribly  un- 
comfortable. The  “ shoes  ” are  heavy  blocks  of 
rough  silver,  worth  about  seven  pounds  ten  shillings 
apiece ; and  one  of  them  was  promptly  carried 
over  to  the  nearest  blacksmith’s  forge  to  be  heated 

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China  as  I Saw  It 

in  the  fire  and  broken  up  into  small  pieces  for  ready- 
use  ! 

We  bought  the  velvet  boots  in  a native  boot 
shop  not  far  from  the  Yamen  (the  residence  of  the 
head  mandarin),  and  the  memory  of  that  Yamen 
haunts  me  still.  Round  the  entrance  gates  stood 
numbers  of  wooden  cages,  from  which  the  prisoners 
had  just  been  removed  and  put  away  into  the  inner 
prison  for  the  night.  The  punishment  of  being 
shut  up  in  one  of  those  cages  is  not  considered  of 
much  account,  but  occasionally  the  cage  is  the  scene 
of  a horrible  death.  The  condemned  man  is  sus- 
pended just  twelve  inches  off  the  ground  inside  the 
bars  and  left  to  die.  Round  the  outer  courtyard 
roofed-in  cattle  pens  lurked  in  the  shadows.  Pleading 
faces  pressed  against  the  slats  of  wood  looked  out  at 
us,  and  hands  seeking  alms  were  thrust  forth  im- 
ploringly through  tiny  apertures.  These  were  the 
prisoners  herded  there  for  the  night. 

“ What  kind  of  crime  are  they  imprisoned  for  ? ” 
we  asked. 

“ Very  probably,”  our  companion  answered,  “ nine 
out  of  every  ten  are  absolutely  innocent.” 

And  he  told  us  that  a Chinese  friend  of  his  own 
is  at  the  present  time  undergoing  a life  sentence 
for  no  cause  whatever  except  this,  that  he  had  be- 
come unpopular  in  his  native  place  by  opening  a 
chapel  for  the  propagation  of  the  “ Doctrine,” 
and  his  neighbours  had  trumped  up  a case  in  which 
they  accused  him  of  obstructing  the  collection  of 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


taxes.  There  was  not  a shade  of  evidence  against 
him.  On  the  very  day  when  he  was  accused  of  com- 
mitting the  offence  he  was  away  in  the  country 
with  the  foreign  teacher  doing  evangelistic  work. 
The  official  made  a feint  of  granting  him  his  free- 
dom ; the  same  day,  however,  he  was  re-arrested 
by  the  official  underlings  and  taken  back  to  a prison, 
where  he  has  remained  ever  since,  and  will  remain 
until  released  by  death — and  death  does  not  tarry 
long  in  these  Chinese  prisons. 

The  power  exercised  by  the  official  underlings 
seems  unbounded.  Woe  betide  the  man  against 
whom  they  bear  a grudge.  Horrible  methods  of 
torture  are  resorted  to  in  order  to  extort  bribes, 
and  these  so-called  “ secret  ” punishments  are  dreaded 
by  the  Chinese  far  more  than  the  official  ones,  which 
are  often  humane  in  comparison.  Not  always, 
though  ! They  are  past-masters  in  the  art  of  maiming 
without  killing.  I have  heard  of  quicksilver  being 
poured  down  the  ears,  in  order  to  irrevocably  injure 
the  brain  without  causing  death  ; and,  in  the  case 
of  theft,  the  sinews  of  the  legs  are  sometimes  cut, 
in  order  to  incapacitate  the  unfortunate  victim  for 
the  rest  of  his  life. 

But  to  leave  these  gruesome  subjects  and  intro- 
duce you  to  our  house-boat. 

The  centre  of  it  is  roofed  in  and  partitioned  off 
into  four  cabin-like  rooms.  There  will  be  about 
forty  people  on  board,  six  of  us,  thirty  or  so  of  the 
crew,  and  the  captain’s  mother,  child,  and  wife 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


(I  put  the  wife  last,  in  the  place  she  probably  occupies 
in  the  captain’s  mind).  If  we  were  to  apportion 
the  deck  space  evenly  between  the  lot  of  us,  I sup- 
pose the  sum  would  work  out  into  seven  feet  per 
head — say  about  enough  space  to  be  buried  in ; 
but  the  sum  is  not  a case  of  simple  division,  the  lion’s 
share  of  the  boat,  i.e.  the  roofed-in  part,  belongs 
exclusively  to  the  six  foreigners.  The  fore-deck 
(except  the  prohibited  place  at  the  far  extremity  of 
the  bows,  which  is  occupied  by  an  invisible  god  !)  is 
for  the  crew.  I shall  be  curious  to  see  how  they 
manage  to  lie  down  at  night.  They  will  have  to  fit 
themselves  in  like  bits  of  a Chinese  puzzle.  The 
after-deck,  of  which  a small  corner  is  covered  in,  is 
the  residence  of  the  captain’s  family,  the  foreigners’ 
cook,  and  a few  privileged  members  of  the  crew. 

But  what  one  lacks  in  space  is  made  up  for  by 
decoration.  The  windows  (sliding  glass  panels,  which 
slide  very  badly)  are  gorgeously  painted  with  un- 
recognisable landscapes,  birds,  flowers,  and  fishes  in 
vivid  shades  of  scarlet  and  purple  and  apple-green. 
Gaudy  paper  panels  adorn  the  inner  wall  of  the 
dining-cabin,  the  ceiling  is  of  brilliant  red,  the 
beams  of  green  and  blue,  the  frieze  (?)  of  scarlet, 
embossed  in  gold. 

Deborah  and  I have  a bedroom  measuring  just 
six  feet  across.  The  bedsteads,  made  of  boards  on 
trestles,  are  at  right  angles  to  each  other,  there  are 
three  feet  to  spare  in  front  of  a tiny  square  table 
which  holds  our  washing  basin,  and  when  Deborah 

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China  as  I Saw  It 

stands  up  I suppose  I shall  have  to  lie  down,  and  vice 
versa,  but  even  so  we  shall  be  luxuriously  lodged  in 
comparison  to  the  poor  crew  on  the  fore-deck.  I 
am  not  sure  how  many  there  are  of  them  yet,  and 
we  must  be  truly  Chinese  and  not  venture  to  count 
numbers,  as  this  is  held  to  be  unlucky,  and  will  mean 
the  loss  of  one  or  more  before  the  end  of  the  journey. 

We  leave  to-morrow,  so  I will  post  this  before  I 
go.  It  is  the  last  time  for  many  days  to  come  that 
we  shall  have  a chance  of  sending  anything  by  steamer. 

Yours, 

V. 


109 


On  the  Upper  Yangtse, 

December  yrd. 

Dear  Joan, 

We  are  off  at  last  ! It  reminds  me  at  present  of 
a pirate  scene  in  a pantomime  ; the  pirates  are  the 
crew  and  we  are  the  prisoners.  A rough-looking  lot 
of  men  they  are,  too,  some  only  half  clad,  others 
simply  smothered  in  garments,  their  heads  swathed 
in  cloths,  black  or  otherwise.  The  deck  is  stained 
with  blood — the  blood  of  the  cock  sacrificed  to  the 
river  god  to  ensure  his  protection  on  the  journey, 
and  crackers  in  his  honour  are  going  off  like  a volley 
of  guns  in  our  ears.  We  have  been  bundled  on  board 
with  our  goods  and  chattels,  and  have  hardly  standing 
room  until  things  have  been  unpacked  a bit  and  made 
shipshape.  The  boat’s  cook,  meanwhile,  is  preparing  a 
feast  for  the  “ pirates  ” with  which  to  celebrate  the 
occasion.  The  ship’s  kitchen  is  merely  a square  hole 
in  the  middle  of  the  fore-deck ; the  hole  contains 
both  the  cook  and  the  fire  plus  the  culinary  utensils. 
Only  the  cook’s  head  and  shoulders  are  visible.  He 
is  leaning  over  stirring  the  contents  of  a huge  cauldron 
and  adding  ingredients.  Two  or  three  joints  of  meat, 
a fowl  all  complete,  even  to  the  head  and  neck,  are 
simmering  gaily  as  the  cook  flings  in  a bucketful  of 
sliced  vegetables,  which  he  pats  down  with  a caressing 


no 


China  as  I Saw  It 


hand,  and  then  adds  a bundle  of  something  that  looks 
like  the  wicks  of  a lamp  (probably  some  species  of 
native  macaroni). 

The  crew  consists  chiefly  of  “ trackers,”  and  a 
tracker’s  life,  I am  told,  is  one  of  the  hardest  of  lives, 
even  here  in  this  country  of  hard  work  and  plain 
living.  They  belong  to  an  army  which  counts  its 
members  by  the  thousand,  and  toil  from  daybreak  till 
dark,  and  often  longer,  with  only  short  intervals  for 
food,  at  the  rate  of  twopence  three  farthings  a day, 
and  their  work  is  arduous.  Either  they  are  pushing 
and  pulling  at  the  fin-like  oars  or  long  paddles,  by 
which  the  boat  is  propelled,  or  they  are  clambering 
over  the  rocks  on  the  shore,  climbing  precipices, 
and  racing  down  slopes,  hauling  the  boat  along  all 
the  time  by  means  of  great  bamboo  ropes.  Woe 
betide  one  who  takes  it  easier  than  the  rest ! The 
overseer,  whip  in  hand,  is  down  on  the  slacker  with 
blows  fast  and  furious,  and  when  the  day  comes 
that  their  strength  fails  them  (and  with  one  at  least 
of  our  crew  that  time  looks  as  though  it  were  not  far 
off),  nothing  remains  for  them  to  do  but  to  fall  out 
of  the  ranks  and  lie  down  on  the  shore  to  die. 

This  evening  we  moored  early — our  own  boat  and 
its  attendant  satellites — the  small  “ wu  pan,”  for 
carrying  the  trackers  to  and  fro,  and  the  official 
red  boat,  with  its  picturesque  crew  of  river  marines 
in  scarlet  silk  jackets  slashed  with  black  velvet.  This 
is  the  life-saving  boat,  granted  as  a favour  by  the  life- 
boat service,  and  when,  amidst  much  yelling  and 


China  as  I Saw  It 


shouting  the  trackers  came  on  board,  bamboo  poles 
were  brought  forth,  and  over  them  an  awning  of 
matting  spread  by  way  of  a roof.  The  feast  over, 
they  laid  themselves  down,  the  head  of  one  against 
the  feet  of  the  other,  and  wrapped  in  quilts  and  quilted 
garments,  they  covered  the  deck  space  from  side  to 
side  and  corner  to  corner  like  a padded  carpet. 


Second  day  on  board. 

This  morning  we  stepped  forth  to  find  ourselves  in 
a changed  world.  The  great  river,  which  used  to  be 
a mile  wide,  has  dwindled  down  to  about  a hundred 
and  fifty  yards,  and  is  shrinking  and  cowering  between 
giant  precipices  of  rock  ; blue,  shadowy  spectres  of 
hills  close  in  one  behind  the  other,  hiding  alike  that 
which  is  to  be  and  that  which  has  been.  We  realise 
that  we  are  passing  through  the  first  of  the  famous 
gorges.  Ping-Shan-Pa  with  its  orange  groves  has 
been  left  behind,  and  the  river,  dark  and  gloomy 
and  of  depth  unknown,  flows  deep  down  at  the  foot 
of  the  precipices,  whilst  our  trackers — one  long, 
tortuous  line  of  yelling,  howling  creatures — clamber 
over  unseen  paths  across  apparently  unclimbable  rocks, 
dragging  at  the  bamboo  rope  which,  fastened  to  the 
mast  of  our  boat,  is  sometimes  nearly  a quarter  of  a 
mile  in  length.  Occasionally  the  shouting  increases. 
The  excitement  amongst  those  of  the  crew  left  on  board 
grows  intense — the  rope  has  caught  round  a jutting- 


112 


IN  THE  YANGTSE  GORGES 


China  as  I Saw  It 


out  rock.  He  who  hesitates  is  lost  ! In  a flash  a 
tracker,  stripped  to  the  skin,  plunges  into  the  water 
from  goodness  knows  where,  climbs  up  some  im- 
possible place,  and  sets  the  rope  free.  A few  moments 
more  and  we  might  have  landed  on  the  rocks.  As 
it  is,  on  more  than  one  occasion  we  drift  perilously 
near  the  formidable  cliffs. 


Third  day  on  board. 

We  are  entering  into  dreamland — gliding  with 
sails  set  and  the  trackers  towing  on  the  shore,  out  of 
a sea  of  white  fog  into  a land  of  sunshine  veiled  in 
summer  haze — a land  of  solitary  dwelling-places  with 
low  walls  and  curved  roofs,  of  feathery  bamboo 
groves  shadowed  by  pines,  of  shores  where  the  rocks 
have  been  hurled  back  pell-mell  by  the  river  in  its 
wrath,  and  wooded  hills  crowned  by  solitary  pagodas. 
There  is  no  one  about,  only  on  the  rarest  occasions 
a lonely  fisherman  in  his  cotton  cloth  of  cornflower- 
blue,  standing  patiently  on  an  isolated  rock  wielding 
his  fishing-net. 


Fourth  day  on  board. 

Our  wonder-world  grows  in  splendour.  This 
morning,  in  the  radiant  sunshine,  we  find  ourselves 
making  rapid  progress  up  the  glittering,  diamond- 
spangled  river,  the  waters  of  which  rush  past  us  in 
mad  haste  to  leave  behind  the  land  of  enchantment. 


i 


113 


China  as  I Saw  It 


But  on  ahead  our  way  seems  barred ; the  river 
appears  to  come  to  an  end  altogether  at  the  foot  of 
the  precipices.  Walls  of  rock,  black  in  the  shadow, 
rise  a thousand  feet  or  more  above  the  water,  and 
on  the  broken  heights  the  crimson  foliage  of  some 
low-growing  shrub  casts  gory  splashes  of  colour 
across  the  sunlit  green.  But  the  river  forces  a way 
through  where  no  way  seems  possible,  and  suddenly 
the  rocks  open  out  as  though  by  magic.  Again  though 
and  yet  again  the  mountains  beyond — veiled  sentinels 
robed  in  pale  amethyst,  violet,  and  dusky  purple — 
marshal  their  forces  together,  and  the  frowning 
precipices  gather  round  to  bar  the  way.  And  so 
it  goes  on,  broken  ever  and  anon  by  cliffs  that 
have  crumbled  into  sand  and  rocky  boulders,  and 
the  boulders — some  of  them — have  rolled  down  into 
the  river,  obstructing  the  flow  of  the  water  and 
helping  to  form  the  boiling,  seething  torrents — the 
white  foam  and  the  black  whirlpools  of  the  justly 
dreaded  rapids.  The  old  adage,  “ Familiarity  breeds 
contempt,”  does  not  hold  good  on  the  upper  Yangtse. 
I am  told  that  it  has  exactly  the  opposite  results  with 
the  native  boatmen. 

The  whirlpools  are  most  dangerous  when  the  water 
is  high — say  in  the  summer  months ; but  even  now 
they  fill  one  with  a certain  amount  of  awe  when  the 
swirling  water  gimlets  down  in  the  centre  to  a depth 
of  four  or  five  feet,  and  with  weird  suddenness  closes 
up  again,  as  though  no  harm  were  meant  ! 

This  morning  we  passed  up  the  famous  Tong 


The  rock  in  the  centre  ot  the  water  was  that  upon  which  the  German  steamer  “ Shui  Hsiang”  was  wrecked. 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Lin  rapid — a boiling  cauldron  above  a great  black 
rock  in  the  centre  of  the  stream,  whereby  there 
hangs  a story.  I was  reading  an  account  of  the 
Yangtse  the  other  day  and  came  across  these  w’ords  : — 

“ In  1899  foreign  enterprise  placed  upon  the  river 
small  steamers  . . . which  will  probably  revolutionise 
the  traffic  in  a few  years.  . . .” 

As  far  as  I know,  the  first  and  only  passenger 
steamer  on  the  waters  of  the  upper  Yangtse  came  to 
grief  against  this  very  rock  at  the  foot  of  the  Tong 
Lin  rapid  on  its  trial  voyage.  The  native  pilot, 
knowing  the  eccentricities  of  the  river,  advised  the 
captain,  a German,  to  steer  straight  for  the  middle 
of  the  rock ; the  captain  thought  he  knew  better,  and 
steered  for  the  clear  water  at  the  side.  The  swift 
current  flung  the  steamer  full  tilt  against  the 
wall  of  rock.  Hopelessly  damaged,  it  was  hurled 
stern  foremost  down  the  rushing  stream,  and  a 
hundred  yards  or  so  below  the  rapid  sank  to  the 
bottom  of  the  river,  and  there  it  still  lies,  without 
causing  so  much  as  a ripple  on  the  surface  of  the  water, 
to  mark  the  spot. 

They  give  us  a good  deal  of  excitement,  these 
rapids.  As  a rule  we  go  on  shore  and  clamber  over 
rocky  boulders  to  a bit  of  higher  ground,  where  a 
tottering  row  of  dishevelled  hovels  constitute  the 
homesteads  of  a tattered  company  of  men  and  women 
and  small  boys,  who  earn  a livelihood  by  helping  to 
tow ; and  as,  according  to  one  authority,  ten  thou- 
sand boats  pass  up  the  river  in  the  course  of  the  year, 

”5 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  the  big  cargo  junks  need  three  hundred  men  or 
so  to  haul  them  through  the  rough  water,  and  may 
take  hours,  possibly  a whole  day,  on  the  way,  one 
realises  that  there  is  plenty  of  employment  of  a 
kind  for  the  inhabitants  of  these  miserable-looking 
hovels. 

The  crowds  who  gather  round  us  are  immensely 
interested  in  two  things — my  gloves  and  my  camera. 
They  press  their  eyes  to  the  view-finder,  and  cannot 
understand  why  they  fail  to  see  anything. 

“ Look  not  see  ! ” they  say  in  disappointed  tones, 
and  when,  after  some  trouble,  I succeed  in  taking 
a snap-shot,  they  gather  round  to  get  a glimpse  of 
the  result,  and  are  distressed  to  find  that  nothing  is 
visible.  The  distant  beating  of  a drum  announces 
the  oncoming  of  our  boat.  The  weird,  mysterious 
thud,  thud,  thud  of  a drum  in  the  distance  will 
always  carry  me  back  to  the  Yangtse  rapids.  At 
critical  moments  it  is  sounded  incessantly,  and  by  it 
signals  and  directions  are  given  to  the  trackers. 
The  drum  is  answered  by  a wild  yelling  as  a long, 
bending,  tortuous  line  of  men  and  boys  comes  round 
the  rocks,  just  below  us,  pulling  for  dear  life — each 
one  almost  bent  double  in  his  effort  to  advance — 
each  one  chanting  “ Tseo  ! tseo  ! tseo  ! ” so  fervently 
that  the  chant  becomes  a groan,  as  he  holds  on  with 
every  muscle  strained  to  the  knotted  sling  attached 
to  the  bamboo  rope  above  his  head,  and  clings  with 
bare  feet  to  slippery  ledges  of  rock,  on  which  an 
ordinary  pedestrian  would  find  but  a scanty  foot- 

116 


China  as  I Saw  It 


hold.  Meanwhile  it  is  touch  and  go  ! Our  boat 
is  battling  with  the  turbid  water  of  the  rapid  and 
does  not  move  a foot.  For  a few  breathless  moments 
it  seems  to  be  slipping  backwards.  It  is  like  an  ex- 
citing tug-of-war — the  boat  struggling  at  one  end  of 
the  rope,  the  men  at  the  other.  Tattered  trackers 
from  the  hovels  are  enrolled  as  recruits,  and  the  men 
win  the  day.  There  is  always  a danger  of  the  rope 
breaking.  It  is  a common  saying  that  a Chinese 
values  a few  cents  more  than  a life.  His  first  idea  in 
a wreck  is  to  save  his  quilt,  and  in  the  case  of  these 
bamboo  ropes  he  is  so  loth  to  throw  them  away  until 
they  are  absolutely  broken,  that  he  will  often  go  on 
using  them  when  they  are  worn  and  frayed  and  quite 
unsafe.  When  the  rope  breaks,  the  boat  swings 
back  down  the  rushing  stream,  and  very  likely  loses  in 
a few  minutes  the  ground  that  has  taken  the  best 
part  of  a day  to  cover. 

After  safely  getting  up  the  Tong  Lin  rapid,  we 
passed  through  the  Niu  Kan  gorge.  The  wind  was  in 
our  favour,  and  with  sails  set,  we  sped  at  an  unusually 
rapid  pace  along  the  sun-flecked  water  in  the  deep 
cleft  between  gigantic  cliffs.  The  river  was  dotted 
with  sails  of  other  junks.  They  tracked  from  side 
to  side,  and  raced  along  two  or  three  abreast  of  each 
other.  The  trackers,  who  were  all  on  board,  whistled 
for  the  wind.  As  a matter  of  fact,  they  didn’t 
“ whistle,”  but  called,  and  their  voices  took  a high 
falsetto  note,  which  re-echoed  from  the  cliffs.  The 
official  red  boat,  crimson  in  the  sunlight,  and  adorned 

117 


China  as  I Saw  It 


with  spreading  sails  of  vivid  blue,  darted  in  and  out 
from  side  to  side  of  the  river  like  a monster  dragon-fly. 
At  times  the  junks  came  so  close  together  that  a 
collision  seemed  inevitable.  Finally,  with  a crash, 
the  windows  on  one  side  of  our  “ saloon  cabin  ” 
smashed  to  smithereens  ; but  that  was  a small  matter 
in  comparison  to  another  collision  that  same  day. 
I was  standing  at  the  cabin  door  looking  on  to  the 
fore-deck.  With  a wild  yell  the  captain  sprang  to 
his  feet,  and  dashing  over  to  the  handful  of  men 
who  were  working  the  sweep,  added  his  exertions  to 
theirs.  Too  late  ! With  a resounding  smash  as  of 
all  the  windows  and  all  the  crockery  in  the  boat 
falling  to  the  ground,  we  came  quivering  to  a stand- 
still. Those  in  front  rushed  to  the  back  of  the  boat 
to  see  what  had  happened,  those  at  the  back  tried 
to  press  forward  and  found  their  passage  barred. 
The  boat  was  literally  impaled  on  a projecting  tooth 
of  rock,  which  had  made  short  work  of  the  wall 
and  the  windows  of  the  passage-way  at  the  side  of 
our  cabin,  and  was  sticking  its  fangs  right  through 
into  the  cabin  itself,  upsetting  the  washstand  and 
sending  the  crockery  flying. 

It  was  a critical  moment,  but  only  a moment. 
In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  we  were  free 
again,  pushed  off  by  dexterously  applied  boat  poles, 
and  the  thudding  of  the  drum  announced  to  the 
trackers  out  on  the  towing-path  that  all  was  right 
once  more.  The  window-frames  and  the  woodwork 
floated  gaily  away  on  the  brown  water.  The  “lao- 


China  as  I Saw  It 


pan  ” (captain)  came  and  looked  with  a smile  at  the 
damage  done,  his  wife  swept  up  the  debris,  and  one 
of  the  crew  took  down  a cabin  door  and  nailed  it  over 
the  yawning  gap.  Had  the  rock  struck  below  the 
water-line,  the  boat  must  inevitably  have  gone  to  the 
bottom.  It  was  a narrow  escape  ! 

We  had  hardly  settled  down  again  when  the  sound 
of  wildly  rushing  waters  warned  us  of  the  approach 
of  the  famous  Chin  rapid.  Our  cook,  who  cooked 
on  placidly  through  rough  water  and  smooth,  through 
collisions  and  disasters,  had  just  boiled  the  kettle 
and  set  the  table  for  tea.  It  went  against  the  grain 
to  go  on  shore  and  leave  the  tea  untasted.  Our  chief 
was  firm,  however,  and  said  the  Chin  Tan  was  one 
of  the  most  dangerous  of  all  the  rapids,  and  no  one 
who  could  help  it  must  stay  on  board.  We  clambered 
along  a narrow  path,  half  sand,  half  rock,  beneath 
a steep,  wooded  hillside,  to  which  houses  were  cling- 
ing, but  with  so  slight  a grasp  as  to  seem  in  momentary 
danger  of  toppling  over.  Their  picturesque  brown 
roofs  and  low  walls,  with  shuttered  openings  for 
windows,  reminded  me  of  Swiss  chalets ; but  the 
pagoda  roof  of  a temple  perched  high  above  the  dark 
pines  and  feathery  green  bamboos  gave  the  requisite 
Chinese  touch  to  the  picture.  Here  and  there  a 
clump  of  brilliant  crimson  foliage  or  an  orange  or 
pumelo  tree,  laden  with  golden  fruit,  showed  that 
the  autumn  had  come  ; but  the  day  was  as  warm 
and  sunny  as  a June  day  in  England.  A couple 
of  our  marines,  in  their  picturesque  scarlet  silk  coats, 


China  as  I Saw  It 


formed  themselves  into  our  escort.  We  walked  on 
and  on,  but  the  Chin  Tan  seemed  never-ending. 
It  was  divided  into  three  sections,  and  the  last  ap- 
parently was  by  far  the  most  turbulent  of  the  lot. 
We  arrived  at  a point  from  whence  we  could  watch 
our  boat.  On  ahead  of  us,  somewhere  on  the  towing- 
path,  a hundred  trackers  or  more  were  pulling  for 
all  they  were  worth  on  to  the  great  bamboo  ropes  ; 
but  the  boat,  buffeted  on  every  side  by  the  tumbling 
waters,  seemed  too  petrified  to  move,  and  suddenly 
the  wild  yelling  of  the  trackers  ceased — the  silence 
in  its  abruptness  betokened  calamity  of  some  kind, 
and  in  another  moment  we  perceived  that  the  rope 
had  given  way.  The  boat  reeled  helplessly  back  at 
the  mercy  of  the  torrent,  and  the  men,  fleeing  in 
pursuit,  clambered  over  the  rocks  and  were  lost  to 
sight. 

We  were  left  alone. 

It  was  growing  dusk  ; the  waters  of  the  Chin  Tan 
splashed  and  roared  impatiently,  waiting  for  fresh 
prey.  Our  boat  had  been  hurled  down  stream,  no- 
body knew  how  far.  Even  our  marines  had  dis- 
appeared. An  inquisitive  crowd  gathered  round  the 
strange  barbarians,  and  one  old  crone  expressed  a 
desire  to  try  on  Deborah’s  motor-cap.  We  appeased 
her  by  handing  over  a glove  for  her  to  examine. 
It  was  almost  dark;  we  were  just  contemplating 
a night  on  shore,  when  news  came  that  the  boat 
had  been  hauled  up  the  rapid  again,  this  time  on 
the  further  side  of  the  river,  where  it  had  moored 


120 


CHIN  RAPID 


China  as  I Saw  It 


for  the  night.  The  official  red  boat  had  reappeared 
on  the  scene,  and  in  it  we  were  rowed  swiftly  across 
the  smooth  water  above  the  rapid  to  the  opposite 
shores.  Then,  by  the  light  of  flaming  torches  made 
of  old  bamboo  rope,  we  scrambled  over  slippery  rocks, 
and  slithered  down  a stony  bank,  till  we  finally  landed 
on  a friendly  plank  put  out  to  help  us  back  to  our 
deserted  saloon  cabin,  with  its  table  still  set  ready  for 
afternoon  tea. 

The  seventh  day  of  our  voyage  we  passed  the  “ Yeh 
Tan,”  and,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  all  went  smoothly, 
it  took  us  the  best  part  of  the  day.  There  were  many 
boats  bound  in  the  same  direction,  and  we  had  to 
wait  our  turn. 

We  whiled  away  the  long  hours  in  the  hot  sunshine 
bargaining  for  Mandarin  oranges,  grown  on  the  spot 
and  sold  for  something  like  twenty  a penny,  brown 
cakes  that  tasted  of  oil,  and  rice  toffee,  which  is 
said  to  be  most  nutritious. 

Deborah  brought  out  her  paint-box,  and  was 
instantly  accosted  by  a decrepit  man,  who  proceeded 
to  disengage  from  its  wrappings  a leg  covered  with 
open  sores,  and  offered  it  for  her  inspection.  He 
had  naturally  concluded  that  the  paint-box  was  a 
medicine  chest,  and  every  foreigner  in  the  eyes  of 
the  unsophisticated  Chinese  is  a physician. 

On  our  ninth  day  we  entered  the  Wu  Shan  gorge, 
with  a strong  head  wind  obstructing  our  progress. 
This  is  the  longest  of  all  the  gorges,  over  twenty 
miles  in  length,  and  one  prolonged  series  of  sharp 

121 


China  as  I Saw  It 


corners  and  dangerous  places.  On  the  rapids  them- 
selves so  many  precautions  are  taken  that  the  dangers 
are  somewhat  minimised  ; but  at  rocky  points  like 
those  in  the  Wu  Shan  gorge,  owing  to  the  many 
cross-currents  and  the  rush  of  the  water,  which  tears 
along  at  something  like  eleven  miles  an  hour,  and  a 
strong  wind  blowing  into  the  bargain,  collisions  are 
only  avoided  by  the  exercise  of  great  skill  and  prompti- 
tude. The  boat  hugs  the  shore,  in  order  to  keep  as 
much  as  possible  out  of  the  wind.  One  false  move 
turning  these  sudden  corners  might  mean  destruc- 
tion. 

Often  and  often  every  spare  hand — the  “ mother- 
in-law,”  the  cook,  even  the  passengers,  throw  aside 
any  occupation  they  are  engaged  in,  and  seize  on 
brooms,  mops,  sticks,  or  a boat  pole,  if  there  is  one 
to  be  had,  and  rush  to  the  rescue,  pushing  with  all 
might  and  main  against  an  overhanging  wall  of  rock 
between  which  and  the  moving  boat  lie  but  a few 
inches  of  open  space.  The  “ mother-in-law’s  ” 
strident  tones  sound  shrilly  above  the  chanting  of 
the  boatmen  and  the  splashing  of  the  waters.  We 
call  her  the  “ bird  of  evil  omen.”  At  the  first  sign 
of  danger,  or  in  any  quarrel,  her  voice  is  always  to 
be  heard.  At  other  times  she  retires  into  private 
life  in  the  roofed-in  cabin  at  the  stern.  The  “lao- 
pan  ” grows  wild  with  unrestrained  excitement  at 
these  critical  moments.  I have  seen  him  bound  in 
the  air  over  and  over  again,  like  a child  skipping,  to 
emphasise  the  directions  which  he  is  bawling  out 


122 


China  as  I Saw  It 

to  the  boatmen  on  deck  and  the  trackers  on  the 
shore. 

His  excitement,  perhaps,  is  hardly  to  be  wondered 
at,  when  one  reflects  that  his  only  means  of  livelihood 
is  bound  up  with  the  safety  of  the  boat.  Most  of 
these  men  live  from  hand  to  mouth.  Unless  they 
have  exceptionally  good  fortune,  the  intervals  wait- 
ing at  Ichang  for  fresh  cargo  or  passengers  generally 
land  them  deeply  into  debt,  so  that  most  of  the 
passage  money  paid  in  advance  goes  to  the  creditors 
before  starting.  If  they  cover  expenses  on  the  voyage 
up  they  are  satisfied  ; but  on  the  return  journey 
they  hope  for  a profit.  From  June  till  October  the 
water  is  too  high  to  be  safe  for  navigation ; the  work- 
ing year  is,  therefore,  never  a long  one. 

Our  eleventh  day  on  board  we  nearly  came  to 
grief.  All  seemed  going  well.  We  were  being  hauled 
up  a small  rapid,  and  by  the  lazy,  indifferent  manner 
of  the  boatmen  and  the  sleepy  way  in  which  the 
captain  was  thud,  thudding  at  the  drum,  there  was 
evidently  no  cause  for  alarm.  The  water  boiling 
up  around  us  had  no  power  to  stay  our  progress. 
In  another  moment  we  should  be  through,  but  in 
another  moment  the  aspect  of  affairs  had  changed. 
The  bubbling  waves  leapt  triumphantly  against  the 
sides  of  the  boat.  The  men  seized  violently  upon 
the  sweep,  and  their  chanting  changed  to  yells. 
The  “ lao-pan  ” deserted  his  post  at  the  drum,  and 
snatching  a handful  of  cooked  rice  from  a basin 
near  by,  flung  it  into  the  water.  He  hoped  thereby 

123 


China  as  I Saw  It 


to  appease  the  dragon  ; but  the  dragon  refused  to 
be  won  over  so  easily.  The  rope  had  neither  slipped 
nor  broken,  but  had  got  entangled  in  the  sweep,  and 
we  were  swirling  round  wildly,  helplessly,  in  the 
raging  torrent.  Again  and  still  again  the  captain 
stopped  to  throw  out  more  rice,  but  the  boat 
had  turned  broadside  on  and  was  drifting  swiftly 
and  surely  down  the  stream.  All  hands  available 
worked  at  the  oars,  but  without  any  apparent 
effect. 

We  were  losing  the  well-fought  ground  of  that 
morning,  and  going  down  in  a few  minutes  the  stream 
that  had  taken  us  many  hours  to  come  up.  The  Hsia 
Ma  rapid  of  yesterday  haunted  our  memories.  If  we 
got  as  far  as  that,  there  was  no  telling  how  much  further 
we  might  drift,  or  whether  the  end  would  be  a 
smashed-up  wreck  amongst  the  rocks.  But  suddenly, 
as  though  by  chance,  we  slipped  into  a patch  of  quiet 
water — where  gentle  ripples  lapped  the  scattered 
boulders  on  the  sand.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost. 
In  another  minute  it  would  be  too  late.  We  were 
rapidly  floating  past  our  haven  of  refuge,  when  one 
of  the  boatmen  leapt  with  marvellous  agility — it  was 
a wonderful  athletic  feat — from  the  deck  of  the 
moving  junk  to  the  top  of  a projecting  rock.  He 
had  a rope  with  him,  which  with  quick  dexterity  he 
wound  around  and  around  a jutting-out  boulder, 
and  the  situation  was  saved,  but  much  time  had  been 
lost.  We  had  to  wait  patiently  until  our  trackers 
came  back  to  tow  us  up  the  river  again  ; and  this 

124 


China  as  I Saw  It 


time  the  dragon,  sleepy  after  his  feast  of  rice,  left 
us  to  ascend  the  rapid  in  peace. 

The  next  day  we  made  the  passage  of  the  famous 
“ Wind-Box  ” or  “ Bellows  ” gorge,  only  four  miles 
long,  but  one  of  the  grandest  of  all  the  gorges.  The 
great  river  shrinks  down  to  something  over  one  hundred 
and  twenty  yards  in  width,  and  cuts  itself  a way 
between  precipitous  cliffs,  many  of  them  two  thousand 
feet  in  height.  The  tiny  path  used  by  the  trackers  is 
of  curious  construction.  Seen  from  the  river,  it 
looks  like  a smooth  groove  worn  away  along  the  face 
of  the  wall  of  rock  about  a third  of  the  way  up. 
The  lower  edge  of  the  groove  forms  the  path,  the 
upper  edge  an  overhanging  roof.  The  “ Wind-Box  ” 
gorge  is  said  to  take  its  name  from  the  curious  square 
holes  high  up  in  a cliff  near  the  end  of  the  gorge, 
there  being  a certain  similarity  between  them  and 
the  bellows  or  “ wind-box  ” (as  the  Chinese  call  it), 
which  is  still  to  be  found  in  every  blacksmith’s  forge, 
and  which,  though  primitive  in  make,  is  extremely 
efficacious.  Some  say,  however,  that  these  same 
square  holes  have  been  made  the  receptacles  of  coffins, 
though  why  and  how  they  were  placed  in  this  seem- 
ingly inaccessible  spot  remains  a mystery.  At  the 
mouth  of  the  gorge  a great  mass  of  rock  called  the 
“Goosetail”  rock  blocks  up  the  middle  of  the  stream, 
dividing  it  into  two  narrow  channels.  It  stands 
forty  feet  or  more  above  the  water  ; when,  however, 
the  river  is  high,  it  is  completely  submerged,  and  the 
danger  is  so  great  that  no  junks  are  allowed  to  pass. 

125 


China  as  I Saw  It 


That  evening  we  arrived  at  the  city  of  Kuei  Fu. 
The  sun  was  low  in  the  western  skies  as  we  glided 
slowly  along  the  peaceful  waters  and  squeezed  our 
boat  in  amongst  the  other  boats  which  were  moored 
two  and  even  three  deep  in  a brown,  tattered  fringe 
of  craft  along  the  shore.  We  looked  up  and  saw  the 
town  rising  above  us,  built  on  a tongue  of  land  which 
jutted  out  below  the  blue-grey  hills.  The  soft  brown 
and  dusky  whites  of  the  walls  and  the  roofs  and  the 
contrasting  poppy-red  of  a Confucian  temple  were 
framed  in  by  the  mauve  and  amethyst  haze  of  distant 
mountains. 

A very  few  years  back  Kuei  Fu  was  not  considered 
safe  for  “ outside  Kingdom  ” travellers,  and  even  the 
missionaries  failed  in  obtaining  a lodgment  inside 
the  city  gates  until  1903,  when  the  China  Inland 
Mission  opened  a station  there,  and  by  now,  only 
four  years  later,  things  have  so  changed  that  the  C.I.M. 
representative,  on  being  asked  if  we  could  not  see  any- 
thing of  the  town,  made  answer  that  we  could  go 
wherever  we  pleased.  We  were  to  spend  the  Sunday 
at  Kuei  Fu,  so  we  had  a whole  day  before  us. 

A long  flight  of  stone  steps  steered  picturesquely 
up  through  the  shadowy  archways  of  the  city  gates. 

The  narrow  street  beyond  climbed  the  hill  as 
steadily  as  the  steps.  It  seemed  literally  oozing  with 
pedestrians,  with  loiterers,  and  with  beggars — and 
all  the  shops  appeared  to  be  food  shops  of  one  kind 
or  another — fruit  shops  where  oranges  ready  feeled 
were  offered  for  sale  (the  peel,  by  the  way,  is  sold  to 

126 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  druggists),  vegetable  shops,  grain  shops,  tea  shops, 
restaurants,  and,  saddest  of  sad  sights,  in  the  hollows 
under  the  brick  stoves,  where  food  was  being  cooked, 
beggars  had  thrust  in  as  much  of  themselves  as  there 
was  room  for,  seeking  warmth.  They  looked  mere 
bundles  of  rags.  Sometimes  a face  was  visible, 
swollen  with  leprosy,  or  a head  covered  with  sores ; 
sometimes  the  bundles  lay  motionless,  with  strange 
rigidity.  One  shuddered  to  think  that  possibly  all 
that  now  remained  was  a corpse  ! 

At  the  end  of  the  street  another  flight  of  steps 
led  up  to  the  high  grey  walls  and  gracefully  curved 
roofs  of  the  palace,  the  gardens  of  which  are  re- 
nowned for  their  beauty.  Our  friends  kindly  offered 
to  take  us  to  call  on  the  owners.  There  are  two 
palaces,  an  old  and  a new,  belonging  to  the  same  family, 
and  over  them  hangs  the  shadow  of  past  tragedy. 
In  the  reign  of  terror  of  1900  the  head  of  the  house, 
a high  official  in  the  province  of  Cheh  Kiang,  was 
accused  of  having  brought  about  the  massacre  of 
four  missionaries  and  a little  child  and  sentenced  to 
death.  He  swallowed  “ gold,”  * as  the  saying  goes, 
and  died  by  his  own  hand.  The  widowed  Tai  Tai 
retired  into  the  old  palace,  as  it  is  called,  and  the 

* I am  told  that  this  “ gold  ” is  the  poisonous  blood  of  some  bird 
called  “jin,”  the  same  sound  though  not  the  same  character  as  gold, 
and  that  all  officials  carry  it  about  with  them  in  tiny  pockets  at  the  end 
of  the  bands  at  the  back  of  official  coats,  which  bands  are  called  re- 
spectively “ filial  ” and  “ loyal,”  representing  the  idea  that  one  is 
always  ready  to  take  one’s  own  life  should  one’s  emperor  or  one’s 
father  so  command. 


127 


China  as  I Saw  It 


“ new  palace,”  with  its  famous  gardens,  was  given 
to  a relative  of  her  dead  husband.  Strangely  enough, 
the  Tai  Tai  and  her  family,  instead  of  feeling 
any  antagonism  towards  foreigners,  are  unusually 
kindly  disposed  towards  them.  They  evidently 
belong  to  that  somewhat  small  section  of  better- 
class  Chinese  who  approve  not  only  of  Western 
learning,  but  of  Westerners  themselves. 

We  naturally  expected  a good  deal  of  grandeur 
in  this  palatial  home  ; but  here,  as  elsewhere,  we 
were  confronted  by  the  same  strange  mixture  of 
grandeur  and  squalor. 

At  the  great  gates  a half-bred  dog  stood  on  the 
defensive.  A call  brought  the  gate-keeper  on  the 
scene — a shabby,  dishevelled-looking  individual,  who 
signed  to  us  to  advance.  An  untidily  dressed  girl  in 
faded  blue  cotton  trousers  and  tunic,  probably  a 
slave-girl,  shot  round  a corner  and  escorted  us  by 
a series  of  right-angles  through  various  paved  court- 
yards to  the  guest-hall,  a palatial  room,  with  the 
usual  long  double  line  of  square  chairs,  alternating 
with  square  tea-tables,  ending  in  the  seats  of  honour  at 
either  extremity  of  a larger  table  raised  on  a kind  of 
da'fs,  under  a wall  decorated  stiffly  with  scrolls.  Re- 
membering Chinese  etiquette,  we  were  careful  to 
sit  on  the  seats  near  the  door  while  waiting  for  the 
Tai  Tai  to  enter.  To  be  strictly  within  the  bounds 
of  Chinese  etiquette,  merely  the  ladies  of  the  party 
should  have  come  to  call  on  the  Tai  Tai,  whereas 
we  had  arrived  “ en  masse,”  and  this,  of  course,  made 

128 


China  as  I Saw  It 


it  possible  for  our  hostess’s  brother-in-law  to  appear 
on  the  scene.  He  flashed  across  the  sombre  guest-hall 
in  a magnificent  pale  violet  brocade  coat,  lined  with 
white  fur,  and  was  followed  a moment  or  two  later 
by  the  Tai  Tai,  who  hobbled  in  on  feet  about  three 
inches  long,  shod  in  pale  blue  silk  shoes,  a meek  little 
woman,  with  pallid  face  and  projecting,  dark  eyes, 
her  tunic  and  trousers  of  dusky  purple,  and  round 
her  head  a closely  fitting  piece  of  black  crepe  studded 
with  jewels  and  green  jade. 

Behind  her  came  a large,  heavily  made  girl,  about 
fifteen  or  so,  with  unbound  feet  arrayed  in  clumsy 
velvet  boots.  Her  fat,  dull  face  was  thickly  powdered 
and  heavily  rouged  ; the  rouge  was  not  put  on  in 
imitation  of  nature,  but  rather  the  reverse,  on  the 
eyelids,  for  instance,  and  the  chin,  and  in  the  centre 
of  the  lips  a brilliant  scarlet  dab,  round  like  a cherry, 
gave  the  strangest  expression  to  the  mouth.  She 
divided  her  attention  between  sucking  a sweetmeat 
and  gazing  at  the  foreigners.  In  her  spare  hand  she 
held  an  orange  wrapped  in  a dingy  pocket-handker- 
chief ; but  a handkerchief  in  any  shape  or  form  is  a 
proud  possession — in  China. 

Everybody  was  introduced,  but  conversation  hung 
fire.  I endeavoured  to  awaken  some  interest  in  the 
mind  of  the  daughter  of  the  house,  though  my 
halting  questions  in  broken  Chinese  failed,  as  far  as 
I could  tell,  to  make  much  impression.  I discovered 
later  on,  however,  that  I had  inspired  a distinct 
feeling  of  affection,  the  first  visible  sign  of  which 
k 129 


China  as  I Saw  It 


was  the  presentation  of  the  orange  in  the  hand- 
kerchief. It  was  a relief  to  move  on  into  the  gardens. 
Our  host  led  the  way,  and  finding  his  fur-lined 
brocade  a little  warm,  divested  himself  thereof,  dis- 
playing an  inner  coat  of  flowered  silk,  with  an 
apple-green  girdle,  and  a massive  gold  watch-chain 
of  Western  manufacture.  In  his  freedom  of  manner 
and  disregard  of  ceremony  he  would  have  shocked 
a Celestial  of  the  old  school.  Chinese  formality  was 
evidently  on  the  wane  in  this  Kuei  Fu  palace,  and 
Western  manners  had  not  been  adopted  in  its  place. 
The  lack  of  both  the  one  and  the  other  brought 
about  some  rather  ludicrous  situations. 

The  Tai  Tai  with  her  maimed  feet  kept  in  the 
background — walking  was  evidently  a great  difficulty 
to  her.  A little  slave-girl  followed  close  behind,  who 
every  now  and  then  held  out  a water  tobacco  pipe, 
from  which  her  mistress  took  a whiff,  but  so  rapidly 
that  the  interruption  was  hardly  noticeable.  The 
daughter  of  the  house  put  her  arm  in  mine  and 
stroked  my  hand,  and  in  this  affectionate  attitude 
she  remained  through  most  of  the  afternoon.  Our 
host  flashed  restlessly  about  like  a fidgety  dragon- 
fly. He  possessed  a few  words  of  English  and  kept 
urging  the  loiterers  to  “ come  by  him.” 

We  dived  round  dark  corners  and  along  paved 
passages,  and  took  a short  cut  to  the  new  palace  by 
the  back  regions  of  the  old.  A strange  air  of  neglect 
and  sadness  hung  over  the  precincts.  Now  and  again 
a solitary  figure  (probably  that  of  a servant)  lurked 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


in  a shadowy  corner,  and  watched  us  furtively. 
Suddenly  we  dipped  into  an  old  Norman  hall,  or 
the  Chinese  equivalent.  It  was  dark  and  disused, 
and  from  the  presence  of  cooking  stoves  and  culinary 
utensils,  suggested  the  palace  kitchen.  A subway 
led  from  these  deserted  regions  up  a steep  incline 
out  into  a courtyard  surrounded  by  neglected  build- 
ings, the  entire  centre  of  which  was  one  huge  pond 
covered  with  lotus  plants.  One  more  narrow  passage- 
way brought  us  to  the  garden,  a garden  as  unlike 
our  home  gardens  as  the  palace  was  unlike  our  home 
palaces.  Its  chief  beauty  lay  in  its  glorious  situation 
— terrace  above  terrace,  on  the  steep  hillside,  looking 
down  through  a veil  of  trees,  across  the  great  river 
to  the  shadowy  blue  mountains,  while  the  roof-tops 
of  the  beggar-haunted  town  were  below  us  in  the 
depths,  and  blotted  out. 

As  to  flower-beds  and  velvet  lawns,  they  were 
practically  non-existent.  Moss-grown  paths  and 
untidy  shrubberies  led  by  zigzags  up  to  the  highest 
terraces  and  lost  themselves  amongst  the  trees — 
and  the  trees  were,  some  of  them,  very  beautiful. 
A red  monthly  rose  was  still  in  flower,  and  doubtless 
in  early  spring  or  summer,  roses,  clematis,  honey- 
suckles, and  azaleas  would  make  a goodly  show  of 
blossom  amongst  the  palms  and  the  evergreens. 

Our  new  friends  seemed  loth  to  say  good-bye. 
The  Tai  Tai,  moreover,  was  anxious  to  seize  this 
opportunity  of  consulting  a Western  physician.  Since 
her  husband’s  death  she  had  contracted  the  opium 


China  as  I Saw  It 


habit,  and  was  anxious  and  willing  to  give  it  up. 
Thus  it  came  about  that  the  whole  party — the  Tai 
Tai,  the  gentleman  of  the  violet  brocade,  and  the 
girl — expressed  a wish  to  visit  us  that  evening  on  our 
house-boat ; and  the  latter,  clinging  to  me  with  a 
caressing  hand,  accompanied  us  on  foot,  whilst  the 
Tai  Tai  followed  a little  later  in  a sedan-chair. 

You  will  remember  the  limited  space  we  had  to  offer ; 
there  were  not  even  chairs  enough  to  go  round.  The 
Tai  Tai  and  the  girl  sat  in  a state  of  mute  passivity, 
looking  on.  Whether  they  were  interested  did  not 
appear  until  the  happy  thought  suggested  itself  to 
show  them  our  cabin.  Whereupon  their  eyes  lit  up 
with  pleasure.  Side  by  side  they  sat  upon  my  bed, 
keenly  scrutinising  our  “ barbaric  ” tooth-brushes, 
soap-dishes,  hand-mirrors,  and  so  forth. 

In  the  midst  of  proceedings  great  hampers  of 
oranges  and  native  cakes  were  brought  in  by  the 
palace  servants,  by  way  of  an  offering,  which  Mrs. 

P , in  correct  Chinese  style,  accepted  by  refusing. 

She  “ could  not  venture,”  “ did  not  dare,”  to  take 
them,  etc.,  etc.  All  we  could  think  of  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment  to  give  back  in  return  was  a packet 
of  butter-scotch,  which  was,  however,  much  approved 
of.  Our  supper-time  came  and  went,  the  evening 
drew  on,  the  gentleman  of  the  violet  brocade  glanced 
at  his  watch  and  said,  “ it  was  still  early  in  the  ex- 
treme.” The  primary  cause  of  the  visit — the  medical 
consultation — in  accordance  with  true  Chinese  eti- 
quette, was  postponed  till  the  very  end,  and  then 

132 


China  as  I Saw  It 


merely  alluded  to  as  a thing  of  absolutely  no  im- 
portance. Under  the  circumstances,  it  would  prob- 
ably have  been  highly  incorrect  to  take  any  notice  of 
the  patient  herself.  The  advice  given  was  entrusted 
to  her  brother-in-law.  The  Tai  Tai  sat  by  humbly 
like  a child  who  should  be  seen  and  not  heard.  She 
looked  ill,  and  was  said  to  be  taking  an  ounce  of  opium 
a day,  and  her  poor  discoloured  teeth  were  loose  in 
their  sockets. 

As  our  guests  finally  took  their  departure,  they 
gave  me  a pressing  invitation  to  go  and  stay  with 
them  in  their  country  house,  on  my  way  down  the 
river  in  the  spring.  Personally  I wished  I could, 
but  the  idea  was  not  encouraged. 

The  next  morning  we  started  in  the  cold  grey 
dawn ; an  east  wind  penetrated  through  the  thin 
wooden  partition  and  shivered  round  our  beds. 
Huddled  under  our  wadded  quilts  we  sang  the  song 
of  the  sluggard,  “ They  have  roused  me  too  early, 
I'll  slumber  again,”  when  the  boat,  fighting  through 
some  rough  water,  heaved  over  heavily  and  with  a 
crash  came  trembling  to  a standstill. 

“ Get  up  as  quickly  as  ever  you  can,”  came  the 
order  ; “ we  are  on  the  rocks  ! ” 

We  tumbled  into  the  first  clothes  we  could  find 
and  stood  ready  for  developments.  The  “ mother-in 
law’s  ” strident  tones  sounded  shrilly  above  all  else ; 
but  the  imperturbable  cook  went  on  steadily  sweeping 
the  floor  of  the  saloon  cabin.  The  “ lao-pan  ” was 
shouting  himself  hoarse,  while  a crowd  of  boatmen 

*33 


China  as  I Saw  It 


stood  forcing  a heavy  wooden  post  under  the  boat, 
to  raise  it  from  the  rocks  on  which  it  was  impaled. 
Luckily  we  were  close  to  the  shore,  but  the  water 
was  swirling  past  us,  a mass  of  bubbling  foam.  A 
sudden  subsidence  of  voices  gave  the  signal  that  we 
were  free  again,  but  the  water  had  flooded  the  bows, 
drenching  the  trackers’  bedding  and  some  of  the 
cargo  and  making  havoc  of  the  “ kitchen.”  There 
was  evidently  a large  hole,  but  nobody  seemed  a bit 
concerned.  The  captain’s  wife  brought  some  white 
wax  and  cotton  wool  and  a piece  of  leather,  the  pilot 
sawed  off  a bit  of  wood  from  a plank,  and  all  damage 
was  soon  repaired  ! Occasionally  boiled  rice  is  re- 
sorted to  for  stopping  up  holes,  and  with  marked 
success  ! 

On  the  1 8th  December  we  came  through  the  new 
rapid,  one  of  the  most  dangerous  at  low  water,  and 
formed  only  twelve  years  ago  by  the  subsidence  of 
the  hillside.  At  first  it  was  absolutely  impassable. 
Then  the  assistance  of  foreign  engineers  was  called 
in.  Their  blasting  operations  made  navigation  pos- 
sible, but  the  rapid  is  still  looked  upon  with  dread, 
and  sometimes  as  many  as  seven  ropes  are  put  out 
from  one  solitary  boat  and  many  extra  trackers 
engaged.  The  approach  in  itself  was  exciting.  A 
corner  in  a rough  swirling  current  must  be  safely 
rounded  and  a dash  made  for  the  shore,  but  so 
neatly  as  to  stop  short  of  the  rocks.  Our  boat  achieved 
the  feat  successfully,  but  the  big  cargo  junk  behind, 
neglecting  to  take  in  its  sweep  in  time,  snapped  it 

i34 


China  as  I Saw  It 


in  two  on  the  rocks.  An  old  peasant  woman  busy 
at  her  washing  hardly  more  than  a foot  away  did  not 
even  look  up,  but  went  on  steadily  with  her  work, 
whilst  the  onlookers  stood  petrified,  thinking  she 
must  inevitably  be  done  to  death  by  the  advancing 
boat.  So  much  for  Chinese  imperturbability  ! 

As  we  got  further  west  the  vegetation  altered 
somewhat.  Bright  green  patches  on  the  hillside 
announced  sugar-cane  plantations,  and  bamboos — 
green  and  golden,  plumed  and  feathered — were  of 
more  luxuriant  growth  than  ever.  High  up  on  the 
tops  of  the  hills  we  were  shown  the  “ gai-tsl,”  walled 
enclosures  used  in  the  old  days  of  internal  warfare 
as  cities  of  refuge — now  half  overgrown  and  wholly 
neglected. 

On  the  20th  we  reached  Wanhsien,  “ The  Myriad 
City,”  and  as  the  most  dangerous  part  of  the  river 
journey  had  been  accomplished,  our  official  life- 
boat took  its  departure.  After  that  the  Hsien  magis- 
trate sent  us  Yamen  soldiers.  We  changed  them  at 
every  fresh  prefecture.  They  lived  on  board,  and 
spent  their  time  squatting  on  the  deck,  often  half 
asleep. 

When  I think  of  Wanhsien  I see  myself  being 
carried  in  a sedan-chair  up  interminable  flights  of 
slimy  stone  steps,  through  a fog-bound  city,  past 
miserable  riverside  hovels,  clinging  to  sand  and  rock 
and  banks  of  crumbling  earth,  along  narrow  streets, 
where  all  was  damp,  and  dank,  and  dark,  and  dreary. 
A creek  from  the  great  river  slices  the  town  in  half, 

135 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  over  it  a beautiful  bridge,  one  lofty  stone  arch 
crowned  by  a long,  low  building  and  climbed  by  two 
flights  of  stone  steps,  forms  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
features  of  Wanhsien.  Our  chair-bearers  avoided  the 
bridge  and  crossed  the  creek  lower  down.  It  was 
comparatively  dry,  but  at  certain  seasons  in  the  year 
is  a rushing  torrent.  As  we,  or  rather  our  chair- 
bearers,  climbed  steadily  up  through  the  piled-up 
streets  of  the  city,  we  literally  shivered  with  cold, 
and  the  wet  fog  wrapped  us  round. 

Then  suddenly  came  a transformation  scene.  The 
first  rays  of  the  sun  had  penetrated  the  fog  and  shone 
on  the  gold  characters  inscribed  on  the  doorpost 
of  the  great  gates  open  to  receive  us.  The  chair- 
bearers  set  down  the  chairs  in  a large  and  well-kept 
courtyard,  beautifully  paved  and  surrounded  by 
picturesque  verandahed  buildings  with  upper  stories, 
latticed  fretwork  and  balconies,  and  throughout  that 
air  of  order  and  cleanliness  so  often  lacking  in  this 
land  of  the  Celestials.  But  the  biggest  surprise  was 
yet  to  come.  A flight  of  broad  steps  led  us  to 
a spacious  foreign  house  built  on  a higher  level, 
and  from  the  cold  grasp  of  the  fog  we  entered  a 
cosy  “ English  ” drawing-room,  scented  by  white 
and  yellow  jonquils,  and  warmed  our  icy  hands  at 
a blazing  “ English  ” fire.  You  will  have  guessed, 
of  course,  that  we  had  found  our  way  into  the  hos- 
pitable home  of  the  China  Inland  Missionaries.  They 
made  us  warmly  welcome,  and  later  on,  when  the 
sunshine  had  melted  down  the  fog,  we  were  shown 

136 


China  as  I Saw  It 


round  the  Mission  compound,  the  church  and  dis- 
pensary, the  opium  refuge,  the  guest-hall,  and  so 
forth.  In  every  detail  all  was  spruce  and  well  kept. 
This  in  itself  must  be  a good  object-lesson  to  the 
Chinese,  who,  with  their  characteristic  disregard 
of  comfort,  and  seeing  no  pecuniary  advantage  to 
be  gained  by  a clean  and  well-ordered  house,  adopt 
a “ laisser  aller  ” policy  in  these  matters,  but  are 
ready  enough  to  appreciate  order  and  cleanliness 
when  it  is  brought  before  them.  The  “Myriad  City” 
is  beautifully  situated,  piled  up  terrace  upon  terrace 
on  the  banks  of  the  great  river,  and  watched  over  by 
the  mountains — richly  wooded  mountains,  hillsides 
embowered  in  green — oranges,  pomegranates,  bam- 
boos, and  cypress  trees  (the  cypress  wood,  they  say, 
is  much  in  request  for  building  the  junks,  as  it  is 
both  strong  and  pliable).  In  the  spring  and  early 
summer  the  floral  display  must  be  exquisite.  Even 
when  we  were  there  in  December,  we  gathered  our- 
selves a handful  of  wild  flowers  in  the  vegetable 
fields  above  the  Mission  compound. 

On  starting  back  for  the  boat  we  requested  to 
“ do  some  shopping  ” ; but  our  new  friends  looked 
askance.  All  through  the  years  of  their  residence  in 
the  place  they  had  never  done  such  a thing  in  the 
streets  of  Wanhsien,  and  in  this  land  of  ceremony 
and  etiquette  such  a performance  would  be  thought 
highly  unseemly  for  a woman  of  a certain  rank. 
W e,  however,  were  in  “ barbaric  ” English  clothing, 
and  would  be  recognised  at  once  as  eccentric  “ out- 

137 


China  as  I Saw  It 


side  Kingdom  ” folk,  and  so,  finally,  the  point  was 
yielded  in  our  favour,  provided  that  we  took  with 
us  a serving  woman  to  act  as  chaperon  and  make  the 
actual  purchases. 

We  had  bought  a few  odds  and  ends,  amongst 
them  a brown  glazed  flower  vase,  which  turned  out 
to  be  a native  lamp,  when  we  realised  that  the  street 
was  blocked  from  end  to  end  with  a dense  crowd 
of  many  hundreds  who  had  collected  in  our  honour. 
It  seemed,  therefore,  advisable  to  cut  short  the  ex- 
pedition, and  descending  the  long  flights  of  mud- 
stained  steps,  we  were  soon  back  in  our  friendly 
boat. 

The  next  morning  saw  us  on  our  way  again — 
delayed  somewhat  by  head  winds  and  more  fog, 
but  the  trackers  worked  on  cheerfully.  Never  have 
I seen  any  people  so  cheerful,  even  when  fighting 
against  “ long  odds,”  as  the  Chinese.  It  seems  to 
help  them  to  chant  while  they  work.  The  harder 
the  work,  the  louder  the  chanting.  One  would 
have  thought  of  it  as  a hindrance,  and  a waste  of 
breath  wanted  for  other  purposes,  but  with  them  this 
does  not  seem  to  be  the  case.  There  is  something 
peculiarly  weird  and  delightful  about  this  song  of 
the  Yangtse  boatmen  on  this  up-river  journey.  (The 
down-river  song  is  different  and  less  marked.)  It 
swings  from  the  treble  to  the  bass,  with  a leap  back 
to  rippling  heights  and  down  to  the  depths,  and  on 
again,  with  never  a moment’s  pause,  as  they  work 
the  oars  backwards  and  forwards.  Often  and  often 

• 38 


TRACKERS  PULLING  A BOAT  UR  THE  RAPIDS 


China  as  I Saw  It 


have  those  who  have  listened  tried  to  catch  the  notes, 
but  they  are  strangely  elusive,  and  to  Western 
voices  seem  almost  unproducible.  Some  say  this  is 
because  we  do  not  open  our  mouths  wide  enough  ! 
At  Ta  Chihko,  our  next  stop  after  Wanhsien, 
we  spent  a Sunday.  It  was  only  a big  village — 
built  on  either  side  of  a giant  stone  staircase.  The 
little  brown  houses  formed  the  banisters,  and  ascend- 
ing and  descending  were  blue-garbed  peasants.  Along 
the  shore  on  a stony  beach,  men  were  seeking  for 
gold,  and  finding  it,  too,  though  I believe  in  very 
small  quantities.  Their  implements  were  primitive 
enough — merely  baskets  on  wooden  stands,  which 
see-sawed  backwards  and  forwards,  and  in  them  the 
stones  were  shaken  to  and  fro  and  the  gold  dust 
sifted  out. 

Christmas  Day  found  us  moored  outside  the  town 
of  Chung  Cheo,  celebrating  Christmas  in  approved 
English  fashion.  The  evening  before  we  had  made 
a raid  on  a Chinese  farm  in  quest  of  a Christmas  tree. 
The  buffaloes  stared  at  us  in  mild  astonishment,  and 
a dog  barred  the  way,  growling  furiously.  For- 
tunately the  farmer’s  wife  came  to  the  rescue.  We 
had  seen  a well-grown  cedar  in  the  garden,  and  prof- 
fered our  request  in  broken  Chinese  for  a bough  or 
two,  emphasising  the  words  with  a brass  coin  (worth 
about  a farthing).  She  brought  forth  a hatchet  and 
proceeded  to  lop  off  bough  after  bough.  In  spite  of  our 
vigorous  protests  that  we  had  “keo-la”  (“enough”) 
she  went  on  lopping  ! We  took  all  we  could  carry 

139 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  beat  a retreat,  pursued  by  the  dog.  The  last 
we  saw  of  our  generous  friend  was  of  a picturesque 
figure  in  blue  calico  standing  on  the  terrace  above 
us,  the  hatchet  in  her  hand  and  a friendly  smile 
upon  her  weather-beaten  face.  We  decorated  our 
dining -cabin  with  cedar  boughs  and  red  (paper) 
camellias  in  lack  of  holly-berries,  and  put  persimmons 
and  pumelo  juice  into  the  plum  pudding  to  make  up 
for  some  of  the  missing  ingredients. 

Just  about  Christmas  time  we  were  pursued  by 
rumours  of  brigands.  A boat  ahead  of  us  had  been 
attacked,  so  report  went,  and  now  and  again  we 
passed  rocks  whereon  large  white  characters  were 
engraved,  which  ran  as  follows  : “ River  way  not 
quiet ; moor  early  at  a wharf.”  Mrs.  P.  told  us  of 
their  own  narrow  escape  from  brigands  a few  years 
ago.  About  forty  armed  men  attacked  a mandarin’s 
boat,  thinking  it  belonged  to  the  foreigners,  who, 
however,  had  been  unexpectedly  delayed.  The 
robbers  loaded  themselves  with  booty  and  carried 
off  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  mandarin’s  household  ! 
They  took  the  stolen  goods  and  put  them  up  for 
auction  at  a town  in  the  neighbourhood,  through 
which  the  mandarin  himself  happened  to  be  passing  : 
he  was  travelling  overland  in  order  to  save  time. 
Recognising  his  wife’s  clothes,  he  made  enquiries, 
and  was  able  to  get  on  the  track  of  the  brigand 
troop. 

But  the  most  desperate,  perhaps,  of  all  the  brigands 
of  the  upper  Yangtse  country  was  the  famous  Yu 

140 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Mantst,  who,  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  banditti, 
about  ten  years  ago,  held  sway  in  Szechuan.  After 
a reign  of  terror  the  Imperial  troops  succeeded  in 
effecting  his  capture.  Afraid,  however,  to  put  an 
end  to  the  existence  of  so  powerful  a personage, 
they  resorted  to  a unique  plan  of  restoring  the 
countryside  to  peace  by  turning  the  brigand  chief 
into  a high  official ! There  was  only  one  condition, 
viz.  that  he  should  keep  to  his  own  district,  and  if 
found  trespassing  in  the  domain  of  others,  should 
pay  the  penalty  of  death.  For  some  long  time  Yu 
Mants'i  lived  an  exemplary  life,  and  fulfilled  his 
official  duties  with  great  success  and  credit  to  his 
ruling  powers  ; but  the  day  came,  alas  ! when,  grow- 
ing tired  of  so  limited  a sphere,  he  strayed  “ out  of 
bounds,”  and  came  to  an  untimely  end. 

Hardly  a day  passes  without  seeing  the  remains 
of  a wreck.  To-day  it  was  a half-sunk  cargo  boat. 
Men  on  board  were  busily  hauling  out  goods  from 
the  hold,  and  on  the  shore  two  forlorn  little  matting- 
covered  shelters  were  pitched  amidst  the  wreckage. 
On  another  occasion  the  banks  were  white  with  cotton 
wool,  saved  from  a watery  grave  and  drying  in  the 
sun.  We  have  just  come  through  a dangerous  stretch 
of  river.  Two  local  pilots  were  taken  on  board  to 
get  us  safely  past.  The  Yangtse  had  widened  out 
enormously,  and  to  every  side  of  us  formidable 
reefs  of  rock  lay  like  great  grey  porpoises  above  the 
rushing,  foaming  water.  We  marvelled  at  the  skill 
with  which  our  lumbering  house-boat  was  steered 


China  as  I Saw  It 

successfully  through  the  narrow  channels  between 
the  rocks. 

On  the  29th  December  we  passed  by  Feng  Tu  city. 
There  is  a famous  temple  there  said  to  be  built  over 
the  main  entrance  of  the  Buddhist  hells.  Often  are 
the  cries  of  the  spirits  in  torment  to  be  heard  in  the 
precincts,  and  the  priests  do  a thriving  trade  in  the 
sale  of  passports  for  Hades  ! There  are  many  kinds 
of  these  passports,  and  the  ones  from  Feng  Tu  are 
considered  the  best.  All  we  could  see,  looking  up 
from  the  river,  was  a building  half  hidden  by  trees 
at  the  top  of  the  steep  rocky  hill,  in  which,  doubtless, 
there  are  many  caves  and  inhabitants  of  caves. 

The  last  day  of  the  year  was  our  first  wet  day  for 
a whole  month.  In  spite  of  the  drenching  rain, 
however,  our  boatmen  kept  on  cheerily  rowing, 
chanting,  tracking,  until  at  last,  drenched  through  to 
the  skin,  they  put  up  their  matting  shelter  for  the 
night  and  “ turned  in.” 

A few  more  days  should  bring  us  to  the  end  of  our 
journey,  but  it  is  no  use  asking  the  captain  for  a date. 
To  give  the  exact  number  of  “ li  ” to  the  next  place 
is  looked  upon  as  unlucky,  and  will  mean  that  we  shall 
never  get  there  at  all,  or  only  after  some  mishap. 
The  weather  has  grown  wintry,  the  scenery  is  no 
longer  as  beautiful  as  it  was ; the  river  has  widened 
out  considerably,  and  the  mountains  have  dwindled  in 
size.  We  pass  unassuming  little  towns  of  one-storied 
buildings,  huddled  together  round  grand  stone  bridges. 
There  is  a saying  that  to  build  a bridge  and  repair  a 


China  as  I Saw  It 


road  in  this  world  are  two  excellent  ways  of  accumu- 
lating merit  in  the  next.  One  truly  magnificent 
bridge  at  Chung  Cheo  was  demolished  by  floods 
a few  years  ago.  The  mandarin,  seeing  the  havoc 
caused  by  the  river,  grew  indignant  with  the  Buddhist 
priests  for  being  unable  to  stop  the  ravages  of  the 
water.  He  ordered  them  to  go  out  to  the  falling 
bridge  and  pray  for  help.  They  were  obliged  to 
comply,  and  every  one  of  them  was  speedily  swept 
away  and  drowned  ! 

To-day  we  passed  Chang  Sheo — the  last  import- 
ant town  before  Ch’ong  King,  our  final  destination. 

Years  ago,  in  the  grounds  of  a certain  family 
mansion  in  Chang  Sheo,  a stream  of  water  welled 
up  miraculously  and  bathed  the  leaves  of  a wonderful 
plant,  which  was  said  to  have  the  power  of  conferring 
the  gift  of  longevity  on  its  possessor.  A ruling  man- 
darin of  the  place  determined  to  appropriate  this 
priceless  treasure  for  his  own  benefit.  Hardly,  how- 
ever, had  he  commenced  to  put  the  plan  into  action 
when  the  well  of  water  dried  up  and  the  longevity 
plant  vanished  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

You  will  see  that  we  have  got  into  the  land  of 
legends.  There  is  a saying  which  runs  something 
like  this  : — 

“ Szechuan  is  an  evil  spirit  region 
Where  truth  lies  dead  and  falsehood  rules  the  reason,” 

and  they  tell  me  the  sorcerer’s  shops  are  in  almost 
every  other  street  in  the  large  cities. 


143 


China  as  I Saw  It 


January  \th. 

Our  thirty-two  days  on  the  house-boat  are  at  an 
end.  The  heaped-up  city  of  Ch’ong  King  lies  above 
us.  First  the  waterside,  with  its  fringe  of  masts,  then 
a layer  of  mat  and  bamboo  huts  built  on  wooden 
legs,  above  them  strata  on  strata  of  walls  above  walls 
and  roofs  above  roofs,  piled  up  in  inextricable  con- 
fusion, and  over  all  a veil  of  mist,  white  and  clinging — 
a likely  haunt  this  for  sorcerers  and  magicians. 

But  no  more  for  the  present.  I will  get  this  ready 
for  the  first  post-boat  that  goes.  In  any  case,  it  will 
take  two  months  or  more  to  get  to  you. 

Yours, 

V. 


•44 


Ch’ong  King, 

January , 1908. 

There  is  a saying  in  Szechuan  that  the  “ dogs 
bark  when  they  see  the  sun,”  and  the  story  goes  that 
a small  child  in  this  house  came  running  in  one  un- 
usually bright  morning  to  ask  what  “ that  queer 
thing  was  up  in  the  sky.”  Certainly  in  winter  time 
Ch’ong  King  is  a city  of  the  mist.  Often  for  six 
weeks  at  a stretch  the  sun  is  practically  non-existent  ; 
on  other  occasions  it  shines  through  the  mist,  but 
seldom  dispels  it.  If  in  the  morning  the  fog  is  so 
thick  that  the  surroundings  are  blotted  out,  there  is 
some  chance  of  a sight  of  the  hills  across  the  river 
before  the  day  is  over  ; if,  on  the  contrary,  the  hills 
are  visible  in  the  early  morning,  it  is  a sure  sign  that 
rain  is  on  its  way. 

We  are  once  more  enjoying  home  comforts,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  we  are  about  one  thousand  six 
hundred  miles  in  the  interior  of  China.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  B.,  of  the  China  Inland  Mission,  have  kindly 
invited  us  to  stay  with  them.  Their  house — a sub- 
stantial foreign  house — is  situated  on  one  of  the  higher 
levels  of  this  town  of  many  layers,  and  looks  down  on 
a sea  of  roofs  built  tier  above  tier  on  the  steep  banks 
of  the  river.  The  cellar-like  buildings  of  the  “ lower 
l 14s 


China  as  I Saw  It 


regions,”  through  which  we  were  carried  in  our  sedan- 
chairs  the  day  of  our  arrival,  left  a dismal  impression 
on  my  mind.  It  was  a nightmare  ride.  From  the 
waterside  we  were  borne  up  long  flights  of  wet,  greasy 
steps,  black  with  mud  ; then  the  steps  turned  into 
steep,  uphill  alley-ways — one  could  hardly  call  them 
streets — between  dark,  dank  dwellings,  with  mud 
floors  and  windowless  walls,  and  yawning  black  holes 
for  entrances — more  like  caverns  than  houses,  and  only 
dignified  by  the  name  of  human  habitations  because, 
peering  into  them  as  we  passed,  we  could  see  impassive 
faces  peering  back  at  us,  and  blue-garbed  figures 
moving  in  the  shadows  as  they  came  forward  to  look 
at  the  “ strange  barbarians.”  The  alley-ways  turned 
into  steps  again,  and  as  we  mounted  higher  and  higher 
the  streets  grew  cleaner,  and  shops  took  the  place  of 
the  caverns. 

At  a sharp  corner  a lamp-post,  enormously  high, 
towering  forty  feet  or  so  above  the  roofs  of  the  houses, 
attracted  our  attention  ; it  was  meant  not  for  us, 
but  for  the  “ world  invisible,”  to  guide  “ wandering 
souls  ” back  to  their  homes  ! You  will  wonder  how 
they  ever  managed  to  get  lost.  One  idea  seems  to  be 
that  when  a person  is  very  ill,  lying,  perhaps,  in  a state 
of  unconsciousness,  he  has  “ lost  his  soul  ” for  the 
time  being  ; and  there  are  many  ways,  they  tell  me, 
of  bringing  it  back,  all  of  them  just  about  as  sensible 
as  that  of  the  “ sky-lamp.” 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  trouble  is  taken  to  keep 
away  the  evil  spirits.  Would  you  have  thought  a 

146 


A TYPICAL  STREET- 


RIVERSIDE  HOUSES  AT  CH  ONG  KING 


Page  146 


China  as  I Saw  It 


little  mirror  over  the  door  would  have  been  of  much 
use  ? It  is  supposed,  however,  to  be  exceedingly 
efficacious,  especially  when  the  characters  meaning 
“ one  good  ” are  inscribed  across  the  glass.  There  is 
a saying,  “ One  good  deed  will  cancel  a thousand  evil 
deeds,”  and  demons,  presumably,  do  not  feel  at  home 
in  the  houses  of  those  who  have  “ cancelled  their  evil 
deeds  ” (or  say  that  they  have  done  so,  which  ap- 
parently comes  to  the  same  thing).  Besides  which, 
the  sight  of  their  own  evil  faces  in  the  mirror  is  usually 
enough  to  frighten  them  away  ! Other  people  put 
a kind  of  eel-trap  over  any  specially  unlucky  house. 
It  is  made  of  bamboo,  and  is  so  contrived  that  the 
demon,  having  once  got  in,  cannot  get  out  again. 

But  this  city  of  “ demon-haunted  ” streets,  piled  up 
by  the  riverside,  is,  as  you  know,  an  open  treaty  port 
and  one  of  the  most  important  commercial  centres 
in  the  west  of  China.  It  seems  to  export  most  things, 
from  opium  to  coal,  from  silk  to  bristles,  from  salt  to 
wax,  from  drugs  to  feathers,  and,  as  far  as  I can  make 
out,  it  does  not  get  much  from  foreign  lands  instead, 
except  Indian  yarn  and  Lancashire  cotton. 

If  the  streets  and  the  alley-ways  are  gloomy  in  the 
daylight,  at  night-time  they  are  weird  tunnels  of 
mystery.  Everyone  carries  his  own  oil-paper  lantern. 
They  look  like  brilliant  red-and-gold  fireflies,  flashing 
here  and  there.  The  pavements  are  narrow,  hardly 
more  than  six  feet  across,  and  often  the  curved  roofs 
of  the  houses  almost  meet  overhead. 

Borne  along  in  my  sedan-chair,  I feel  as  though  I 

i47 


China  as  I Saw  It 


were  being  carried  through  the  mysterious  alley-ways 
of  some  underground  world.  A few  years  ago  an 
attempt  to  provide  street  lights  was  made  by  the 
authorities,  but  the  beggars  stole  all  the  lamfs.  This 
was,  perhaps,  hardly  surprising  in  a town  where  there 
are  no  police.  It  seems  there  was  another  attempt 
made  to  provide  police  as  well  as  lamps,  though,  pre- 
sumably, not  at  the  same  time.  The  police,  being 
absolutely  untrained,  proved  of  no  use  whatever. 
At  the  present  date,  however,  a fresh  force  is  under- 
going special  training  and  is  expected  to  appear  on 
the  scene  before  long.  Meanwhile  one  is  astonished 
that  the  streets  are  as  orderly  as  they  are,  considering 
the  dense  crowds  of  pedestrians  always  coming  and 
going. 

A few  weeks  ago  the  place  swarmed  with  beggars 
of  all  degrees  in  every  state  of  decay.  Beggars  seem 
to  me  one  of  the  saddest  sights  in  the  “ Celestial 
Land.”  Begging  is  a legitimate  profession,  and  in 
order  to  qualify  for  the  most  lucrative  posts,  all 
measures  are  resorted  to.  We  were  told  of  a case  in 
which  a man  had  had  his  legs  broken  as  a child  and 
turned  back  over  the  shoulders.  One  ankle  was  so 
manipulated  as  to  admit  of  the  foot  being  twisted 
round  and  round  independently  of  the  leg.  The 
poor,  tortured  owner  crept  round  the  streets  as  best 
he  could,  and  showed  off  to  an  inquisitive  audience, 
by  means  of  a piece  of  string,  the  wonders  of  the 
moving  foot. 

In  many  places  the  residents  pay  a tax  to  the  chief 

148 


China  as  I Saw  It 


of  the  beggars  to  secure  peace  ; people  who  refuse 
to  do  this  may  be  subjected  to  untold  annoyance. 
The  beggars  gather  in  their  hundreds — I had  almost 
said  thousands — and  clamour  as  one  man  until  they 
have  received  that  which  they  consider  their  due. 

Just  outside  the  upper  gates  of  the  city  the  officials, 
following  the  lead  of  their  colleagues  in  the  capital 
of  the  province,  have  built  a large  and  substantial 
building,  or  set  of  buildings,  in  walled-in  grounds,  in 
which  all  the  beggars  of  Ch’ong  King — or  all,  at  least, 
who  could  be  discovered — are  now  collected,  and 
are  divided,  so  they  tell  us,  into  two  classes  : — 

1.  Those  who  can  work  and  will  are  well  fed. 

2.  Those  who  can  work  and  won't  are  badly  fed. 
For  the  sick  ones,  of  course,  especial  provision  is 
made. 

At  the  present  time  Ch’ong  King  is  the  fortunate 
possessor  of  a very  able  Hsien  magistrate.  Owing  to 
his  strenuous  efforts  the  town  has  been  swept  of  most 
of  its  opium  dens,  as  well  as  of  its  beggars.  People 
live  in  a good  deal  of  awe  of  him  ; he  has  an  uncom- 
fortable way  of  looking  into  things  with  his  own  eyes 
and  is  not  easy  to  hoodwink.  Every  now  and  again 
he  rides  out  in  state  with  his  servants  and  military 
escort,  and  enters  some  place  where  he  has  business 
to  transact.  His  retinue  waits  outside  for  him  to 
reappear  ; but  time  goes  on  and  there  is  no  sign  of 
him.  Meanwhile  this  energetic  official  has  changed 
his  grand  silk  clothing  for  the  humble  attire  of  a 
coolie,  and  has  gone  home  by  some  back  way,  dropping 

149 


China  as  I Saw  It 


in  on  unsuspecting  citizens,  in  order  to  see  if  sundry- 
commands  given  in  the  past  have  been  obeyed. 

“ Who  are  you  ? What  business  is  it  of  yours  ? ” 
they  ask  indignantly  of  the  strangely  well-informed 
but  most  inquisitive  coolie. 

“ I am  the  ‘ Pa  Hsien,’  ” comes  the  answer  in  tones 
that  are  unmistakable. 

Thanks  in  great  measure  to  the  energies  of  the 
“ Pa  Hsien,”  opium  cultivation  in  the  district  round 
Ch’ong  King  is  rapidly  being  put  a stop  to.  Our  host 
tells  us  of  great  tracts  of  country  which  a year  or  two 
ago  were  ablaze  with  poppies — white,  mauve,  and 
pink — and  now  not  a vestige  of  the  plant  will  be 
found  there.  In  various  places  along  the  banks  of 
the  river  we  have  noticed  fields  in  which  vegetables 
and  poppies  are  growing  side  by  side,  the  practical 
Chinese  having  no  doubt  thought  to  himself  that 
supposing  the  authorities  ordered  the  poppies  to  be 
destroyed,  he  would  at  least  have  the  vegetable  crop 
left  to  go  on  with. 

This  morning,  for  the  first  time  since  our  arrival 
here,  the  sunshine  has  broken  through  the  mist. 
It  is  like  a warm  spring  day  in  England,  and  Deborah 
and  I started  forth  for  a long  walk  amongst  the 
graves.  It  sounds  a gruesome  place  to  choose,  but  we 
could  not  very  well  help  ourselves.  I will  explain 
why.  Ch’ong  King  is  a kind  of  peninsula,  built 
on  a tongue  of  rock,  or  rather  a narrow,  rocky  hill 
wedged  in  between  two  rivers,  the  Yangtse  and  the 
Kia  Ling.  There  is  only  one  land  gate  to  the  city, 

150 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  that  gate  leads  out  down  flights  of  steps  past  a 
handful  of  tiny  shops  and  houses  to  the  “ city  of  the 
dead.” 

Down  in  a dell  stands  the  newly  erected  beggars’ 
home,  and  around  and  beyond  for  several  miles  lie 
the  grass-grown  mounds  of  many  generations  of 
graves. 

We  walked  and  we  walked  along  the  main  road  to 
Chentu  between  the  graves.  There  was  a great  deal 
of  traffic,  coming  and  going — men  carrying  burdens, 
men  carrying  sedan-chairs,  men  carrying  only  them- 
selves, or  sitting  on  the  backs  of  donkeys  or  minute, 
emaciated  ponies,  almost  hiding  the  creatures  from 
view  with  their  voluminous  garments  and  saddle- 
bags. 

At  last  we  arrived  at  a tiny  village,  with  streets  so 
narrow  and  houses  so  crowded  and  overhanging  that 
the  sunlight  barely  squeezed  through  at  all,  and  as 
we  stood  for  a moment  looking  round,  a strange  burden 
was  borne  past  us  on  a litter.  We  caught  sight  of  a 
pair  of  little  feet  in  daintily  embroidered  shoes  peep- 
ing out  from  beneath  a coverlet  of  gorgeous  silk,  and 
on  the  top  of  the  coverlet  a hale  and  hearty  cock  of 
pale  plumage  stood  at  ease  surveying  the  scene. 
There  was  something  suspiciously  stiff  about  the  atti- 
tude of  the  feet,  something  curiously  rigid  about  the 
well-dressed  head  of  the  recumbent  owner,  and, 
looking  again,  we  realised  that  the  men  who  stepped 
along  so  briskly  through  this  indifferent  crowd  were 
bearing  a dead  burden.  The  cock,  which  should  have 


China  as  I Saw  It 


been  a white  cock,  was  in  attendance  in  order  to  lead 
the  spirit  in  the  right  direction.  Eventually  the  bird 
will  be  killed  and  the  coffin  sprinkled  with  its  “ sacred  ” 
blood.  The  dead  girl  had  been  dressed,  of  course, 
in  her  best  clothes,  according  to  approved  custom, 
and  probably  in  an  odd  number  of  garments,  as  an 
even  number  is  considered  unlucky  and  might  entail 
the  death  of  another  member  of  the  family.  There 
is  only  one  thing  tabooed,  namely,  fur , for  fear  that 
the  wearer  in  the  next  world  may  be  transformed  into 
an  animal ! 

On  our  way  back,  after  re-entering  the  land  gate 
of  the  city,  we  turned  off  on  to  an  open  stretch  of 
levelled  ground,  called  the  “ Parade  Ground,”  sur- 
rounded on  two  sides  by  the  city  wall,  from  whence 
one  can  obtain  one  of  the  best  views  of  Ch’ong  King 
— the  tangled  mass  of  shabby  brown  roofs  on  the 
verge  of  toppling  into  the  great  river  below,  the  grave- 
grown  hills  to  the  north,  the  grave-grown  hills  to 
the  west,  and  to  the  east  the  Kia  Ling  River  flowing 
on  towards  the  Yangtse. 

The  river  bed  is  partly  sand,  partly  water,  at  this 
time  of  the  year,  and  already  the  thrifty  Celestial 
has  planted  the  sand  out  in  vegetable  crops  ! No 
place  is  too  poor,  no  hill-slope  too  inaccessible,  no 
river  bed  too  shifting,  no  trouble  too  great  for  Chinese 
industry.  As  we  craned  our  necks  to  get  a view 
of  the  outer  side  of  the  wall — we  were  standing  on 
the  top  of  the  wall  at  the  time  looking  over  the 
edge — little  patches  of  bright  green  lettuce  plants 


China  as  I Saw  It 


peered  up  at  us  from  the  earth  that  was  clinging  be- 
tween the  crevices  of  the  foundation  stones. 

On  our  way  down  to  the  Mission  compound  more 
signs  of  thrift  met  us  at  every  turn.  Feathers  were 
lying  in  their  millions  drying  on  the  ground,  the  very 
air  seemed  disagreeably  full  of  feather  down.  Cotton 
cloth,  freshly  dried,  was  hanging  from  a line,  and  the 
women  at  the  doors  of  their  hovel-like  houses  were 
busy  pasting  strips  of  rag  of  every  sort  and  every 
colour  on  stiff  bits  of  sandy  brown  paper.  The  paper 
was  in  lengths  of  about  a foot  and  a half  square,  and 
each  was  covered  from  end  to  end  with  the  scraps  of 
coloured  rag.  They  were  hung  on  lines  to  dry,  and 
laid  out  on  flat  stones  for  the  same  purpose. 

“ These  piece  things  call  what  ? ” we  asked. 

And  what  do  you  think  they  were  ? Why,  the 
embryo  soles  of  native  shoes.  Thus  when  a garment 
becomes  too  old  to  wear  any  longer — although  the 
Chinese  women  mend  their  garments  so  superbly 
that  their  existence  as  garments  is  often  indefinitely 
prolonged — but  when  the  day  does  arrive  when 
they  are  finally  torn  up,  there  is  no  question  of 
throwing  away  the  rags,  they  are  merely  made  into 
shoe  soles . 

It  is  said  that  Jews  are  almost  unknown  in  China — 
save  for  a remnant  of  the  race  at  Kai  Feng  Fu — and 
the  reason  given  is  that  they  have  never  been  able  to 
compete  with  the  Chinese  in  matters  of  thrift  and 
economy  and  all-round  cleverness.  Certainly  they 
are  a wonderful  people.  The  idea  that  they  are  down- 

153 


China  as  I Saw  It 


trodden  and  oppressed  is  quite  an  erroneous  one. 
The  masses  have  great  power  and  know  how  to  use  it. 
Should  the  authorities  enact  a new  law,  or  impose 
a new  tax  which  the  people  consider  unjust,  they 
protest  in  so  practical  a manner  that  the  law  is  either 
repealed  or  modified,  or  the  tax  rescinded.  I will 
give  you  an  instance  of  a case  of  this  kind  here  in 
Ch’ong  King  a few  years  ago.  An  enterprising  official 
passed  a law  to  the  effect  that  every  article  purchased 
in  the  town  and  taken  out  of  the  town  should  pay 
duty  to  the  Government.  In  order  to  enforce  this 
new  regulation  officials  were  stationed  at  the  city 
gates  to  search  all  goods  carried  out. 

The  people  protested,  but  to  no  purpose.  They 
forthwith  inaugurated  a plan  which  in  a few  days 
would  have  had  the  most  far-reaching  results.  They 
organised  a strike  amongst  the  rice-carriers.  No  one 
was  permitted  to  bring  rice  into  the  city.  Shop  after 
shop  was  closed,  and  business  of  almost  every  kind 
was  at  a standstill. 

The  offending  mandarin,  in  the  indirect  manner 
approved  of  in  the  “ land  of  the  Celestials,”  appointed 
a “ middle  man  ” to  enquire  into  the  matter,  which 
meant  practically  that  the  people  had  won  the  day. 
The  new  tax  was  repealed,  the  blame  fell  on  the 
“middle  man,”  who  had  been  installed  in  office  for  the 
simple  purpose  of  providing  a “scapegoat,”  and  thereby 
the  mandarin,  as  the  saying  goes,  “ saved  his  face  ” ; 
and  the  “ middle  man,”  of  course,  had  none  to  lose, 
as  everybody  knew  that  his  share  in  the  business  was 


China  as  I Saw  It 


purely  fictitious.  The  people  got  what  they  wanted, 
and  the  “ scapegoat  ” was  secretly  rewarded  with  a 
sum  of  money. 

This  “ saving  of  face  ” — of  appearances  (though  it 
means  much  more  than  that) — is  of  far  greater  im- 
portance to  a Chinese  than  a Westerner.  It  seems 
the  keynote  to  much  of  their  social  life,  and  crops 
up  on  most  unexpected  occasions,  turning  black  into 
white  and  vice  versa.  Someone  was  telling  me,  for 
instance,  of  a conversation  between  a missionary  and 
a Chinese  the  other  day  on  the  subject  of  the  “ Parable 
of  the  Vineyard.”  Discussing  the  case  of  the  two 
sons,  the  one  who  said  he  would  go  and  didn’t  go, 
and  the  other  who  said  he  wouldn’t  go  and  went,  the 
Celestial  answered  that  the  former  was  the  more 
commendable,  as  he  not  only  “ saved  his  own  face, 
but  his  father’s  ” ! 

But  I must  not  linger  over  these  metaphysical  sub- 
jects when  all  our  packing  has  still  to  be  done  for 
the  road  journey  of  three  hundred  miles  or  so  across 
country  to  the  city  of  Chentu.  It  is  by  no  means 
ordinary  packing.  The  luggage  has  to  be  carefully 
weighed  into  packages  neither  over  nor  under  forty 
“catties”  * apiece.  Each  coolie  will  carry  two  of  these 
packages,  one  at  either  end  of  his  bamboo  pole.  They 
must  balance  each  other  evenly,  otherwise  he  will 
complain,  and  time  will  be  lost  readjusting  the  bur- 
dens. If  both  weigh  less  than  forty  “ catties  ” apiece 
the  other  men  will  complain,  and  they  know  almost 
* A “ catty,”  one  English  pound  and  a third. 

155 


China  as  I Saw  It 


at  a glance  if  there  is  any  difference  in  weight  be- 
tween their  own  burdens  and  their  neighbour’s.  Our 
cabin  trunks,  however,  have  to  be  arranged  differently. 
They  are  carried  slung  on  a pole  borne  between  two 
men,  and  the  rule  to  be  observed  in  this  case  is  not 
twice  eighty,  but  twice  sixty.  Unless  you  have  done 
it  yourself,  you  would  hardly  believe  how  difficult  it  is 
to  get  the  weight  exactly  right.  It  comes  a bit  over 
or  a bit  under  all  the  time.  As  to  the  bedding,  it  is 
first  rolled  in  bundles,  covered  with  stout  oiled  sheet- 
ing, and  then  packed  into  gigantic  hampers  to  be 
slung  on  poles. 

The  food  for  eleven  days  (ten  travelling  days  and 
one  Sunday),  the  plate,  glass  and  linen,  etc.,  are  being 
brought  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  P.,  of  the  “ L.  M.  S.,” 
who  are  journeying  to  the  capital  at  the  same  time 
and  have  kindly  permitted  us  to  join  them.  They 
will  have  their  three  servants,  so  we  shall  not  need  to 
take  one  of  our  own. 

It  will  be  quite  a cavalcade  : four  sedan-chairs  with 
three  or  four  bearers  apiece,  eight  or  nine  coolies 
carrying  luggage,  three  servants,  one  “ futeo,”  * and 
two  Yamen  runners  or  “ tsai-ren,”  a kind  of  military 
escort,  not  in  the  least  necessary,  but  insisted  on  by 
the  officials,  who  feel  that  by  taking  these  precautions 
they  at  least  will  be  able  to  say  that  they  have  done 
their  part  in  trying  to  protect  the  foreigner  should 
anything  happen.  They  bear  with  them  an  official 
letter,  a species  of  passport,  concerning  us,  which  has 
* Foreman  over  the  coolies. 

156 


China  as  I Saw  It 

to  be  shown  at  the  Yamen  at  each  new  “ hsien  ” 
city,  when  the  military  escort  is  changed. 

We  start  to-morrow  morning,  January  13th. 

Fortunately,  by  this  time  we  have  been  drilled  into 
chair  etiquette,  and  know  that  it  is  only  permitted 
to  a man  to  step  over  the  cross-bar  in  front  of  the 
chair  in  getting  in  or  out.  We,  as  belonging  to  the, 
in  China,  distinctly  inferior  sex,  must  be  scrupulously 
careful  to  step  over  the  side,  otherwise  the  front  chair- 
bearer  may  refuse  to  go  further,  and  will  in  any  case 
consider  himself  horribly  injured,  imagining  that  boils 
will  grow  out  on  his  shoulders  if  he  touches  them  with 
the  cross-bar  which  has  been  so  ruthlessly  stepped 
over. 

I wonder  how  many  other  points  of  etiquette  there 
are  to  remember. 

Let  us  hope  we  shall  get  to  the  end  of  the  journey 
without  a scene  ! 

Yours, 

V. 


157 


On  the  main  road  between 

Ch’ong  King  and  Chentu, 
January,  1908. 

By  this  time  we  have  been  three  days  on  the 
road.  It  is  like  a journey  in  a dream.  One  feels 
detached  from  one’s  surroundings,  as  though  one 
were  an  idol  being  carried  in  a procession,  sitting 
propped  up  in  a sedan-chair  in  solitary  state,  visible 
only  when  the  curtain  in  front  is  raised.  The  people 
who  pass  by  look  at  one  curiously,  and  some  of  them 
stand  and  gaze. 

Hour  after  hour,  mile  after  mile,  the  bearers  go 
on  and  on,  seldom  absolutely  stopping,  but  every 
hundred  yards  or  so  lingering  for  half  a minute, 
chanting  out,  “ Pang  go  ! pang  go  ! ” and  shifting 
from  one  shoulder  to  another  the  short  shoulder  pole 
from  which  the  long  poles  are  partly  hung.  This 
they  do  with  the  regularity  of  a machine,  and  mean- 
while we  are  being  borne  along  one  of  the  famous 
roads  of  China,  for  six  hundred  miles  paved  with  stone 
slabs  laid  crosswise,  which  change  as  the  country 
grows  mountainous  into  stone  steps ; but  the  road 
is  seldom  more  than  five  feet  wide,  and  sometimes 
less. 

From  the  grave-strewn  hills  of  Ch’ong  King 

*58 


we 


China  as  I Saw  It 


passed  along  the  mountain-side  and  looked  down 
through  a lattice  of  fir  boughs  on  to  a sea  of  mist 
below.  The  mountain  was  a ridge  between  two  rivers, 
the  Yangtse  and  Kia  Ling,  but  we  could  see  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other  on  account  of  the  mist.  Under 
memorial-stone  arches,  which  cropped  up  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  with  no  apparent  reason,  like  things 
do  in  dreams,  the  paved  road  dipped  downhill  once 
more  and  meandered  amongst  rice  fields,  where  the 
surface  of  the  water  was  covered  with  crimson  weed. 

On  the  second  day  we  started  forth  before  it  was 
light,  a picturesque  cavalcade  lit  up  by  glowing  red 
and  yellow  paper  lanterns.  The  dawn  was  slowly 
breaking,  a weird,  mysterious  twilight  in  a blue, 
shadowy  world.  We  climbed  steep  steps  up  into  the 
mountains  again,  past  groups  of  plumed  bamboos 
in  clusters  of  three,  like  gigantic  Prince  of  Wales’s 
feathers,  past  clumps  of  dark  pines  and  rocks  dripping 
with  ferns  and  moss,  and  back  as  by  magic  to  the 
interminable  stretches  of  vegetable  fields,  homesteads 
which  might  have  been  cowsheds,  and  buffaloes  care- 
fully shod  in  straw  sandals.  We  rubbed  our  eyes  to 
make  sure  we  were  awake,  and  the  next  creatures  that 
came  along  were  pigs,  also  carefully  shod.  It  seemed 
they  had  a long  way  to  go  to  market,  and  this  was  done 
to  protect  their  feet ! 

The  road  disappeared  now  and  again  through 
arched  doorways.  We  followed  it,  and  found  our- 
selves not  in  a house,  but  in  a street,  and  realised 
that  our  arched  door  was  but  the  covered  way  into 

i59 


China  as  I Saw  It 


a village.  We  were  carried  through  dense,  seething 
crowds  in  country  markets.  The  greater  the  crowd 
the  quicker  we  seemed  to  go.  “ Pei-a,  pei-a,  pei-a  ! ” * 
shouted  our  chair-bearers,  and  swept  on  regardless  of 
opposition,  pushing  aside  those  who  got  in  the  way, 
and  crashing  ruthlessly  into  the  ribs  of  any  who  did 
not  move  far  enough  aside. 

The  rule  of  the  road  appears  to  be  that  when  a 
chair-bearer  has  warned  people  by  his  shouts  that  he 
is  coming,  he  is  perfectly  at  liberty  to  push  over  any- 
one who  still  obstructs  his  path.  Considering  that 
there  is  hardly  standing  room  for  all  even  before  the 
advent  of  the  chairs,  one  marvels  that  they  can  make 
sufficient  space  to  let  us  get  by.  It  gives  one  rather  a 
start  sometimes  to  see  a woman  carrying  a baby  on 
her  back  turn  resolutely  round  and  make  a buffer 
of  the  baby.  On  closer  inspection,  however,  one 
realises  that  there  is  “ method  in  her  madness.” 
The  baby  is  rendered  almost  invulnerable  by  the 
thick  wadded  garments  in  which  it  is  swathed,  and 
so  held  that  no  real  harm  is  done. 

A prosperous  merchant  in  purple  silks  and  a wind- 
bonnet  of  scarlet  and  turquoise-blue  cloth  “ danced  ” 
before  us  like  a will-o’-the-wisp  on  the  first  day  of 
our  journey.  We  never  succeeded  in  catching  him 
up,  and  at  each  inn  he  arrived  before  us  and  took  the 
best  rooms.  We  had  to  be  content  with  the  second 
best. 

Here  in  the  west  of  China  there  arc  no  “ kengs  ” 
* “ Mind  your  back  ! ” 

160 


China  as  I Saw  It 


as  in  the  north,  but  wooden  bedsteads,  very  decayed 
in  appearance,  which  fill  up  most  of  the  available 
space ; walls  trimmed  with  cobwebs  artistically 
draped,  and  a mud  floor  that  seemed  suspiciously 
soft  under  the  beds ; a table  one  inch  deep  in  grease 
and  dirt,  on  which  a saucer  of  oil  with  a lighted  wick 
gave  forth  more  smell  than  light.  The  windows  were 
of  torn  paper,  and  the  barn-like  roof  seldom  rain- 
proof. Our  oil  sheeting  was  invaluable.  We  spread 
it  over  the  bed  and  turned  it  up  against  the  wall 
by  way  of  a fortification  to  ward  off  likely  excur- 
sionists, and  kept  ourselves  and  our  belongings  as 
much  as  possible  out  of  reach  of  the  marauders, 
which  fortunately  at  this  winter  season  are  by  no 
means  as  active  or  as  numerous  as  they  are  in  the 
hot  weather. 

Wang  San,  the  servant,  on  arrival  at  these  inns  brings 
us  hot  water  from  the  inn  kitchen.  There  is  often 
a slightly  culinary  smell  about  it,  and  occasionally 
a suspicious  piece  of  cooked  vegetable  floating  on  the 
top.  Still,  it  is  a boon  to  be  able  to  get  hot  water  at 
all.  But  water  of  a sort  seems  plentiful  enough,  and 
the  inns  on  the  high-road  to  Chentu  are  said  to  be  some 
of  the  best  in  China.  I am  getting  used  to  them  now, 
but  they  were  rather  a shock  to  begin  with. 

The  gentleman  of  the  scarlet  wind-bonnet  started 
earlier  than  we  did  the  second  day  of  our  journey, 
and  was  no  longer  there  to  seize  on  the  “ shang 
fangts't  ” (the  best  rooms)  before  our  arrival. 

These  Szechuan  inns  are  built  in  a different 
m 161 


China  as  I Saw  It 


style  to  the  northern  ones.  The  entrances  even  now 
take  me  by  surprise.  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  a 
crowded  thoroughfare,  the  chair-bearers  turn  suddenly 
to  the  right  or  the  left  and  dip  into  what  appears  to 
be  a narrow,  dark  paved  passage  in  the  middle  of  an 
eating-house,  where  culinary  operations  are  in  pro- 
gress. It  turns  out  to  be  the  inn  kitchen,  but  the 
chair-bearers  do  not  stop.  They  hurry  off  up  the 
paved  passage,  which  becomes  a long,  narrow  yard. 
It  reminds  one  of  a stable  mews,  but  it  is  the  main  hall 
of  the  inn,  and  the  doors  opening  on  to  it  on  either 
side  are  the  bedrooms ! At  the  far  end,  on  a slightly 
higher  level,  stands  a small  pavilion ; this  is  the 
“ shang  fangtsY.”  It  is  sometimes  shut  off  from  the 
main  yard  by  a thin  wooden  partition,  or  a screen, 
highly  ornamental,  fixed  in  front  of  the  doors,  which 
helps  probably  to  check  the  ingress  of  evil  spirits.  As  a 
rule  there  are  two  side  rooms  leading  out  of  the 
“ shang  fangtsY,”  and  this  suite  is  annexed  by  the 
first  guest  who  is  willing  to  pay  the  price,  which,  at 
the  outside,  comes  to  about  threepence -halfpenny 
of  our  money  ! 

A coolie,  for  twenty  “cash”  (a  little  less  than  a half- 
penny), can  even  hire  a quilt  as  well  as  a place  to  lie 
down  in  for  the  night  ! There  is  only  one  stipulation, 
viz.  that  he  shall  first  wash  his  feet  and  ankles.  These 
ablutions  go  on  in  public,  and  those  who  pass  must 
pick  their  way  carefully  through  the  spilt  water. 

The  “ shang  fangtsY  ” is  larger  and  loftier  than 
the  other  rooms,  but  it  usually  smells  of  pig-sties. 


China  as  I Saw  It 


The  floor  is  of  wood,  the  furniture  consists  of  a 
big  table  and  a few  substantial  chairs,  and  a classic 
touch  is  supplied  by  some  high-flown  sentiment  in 
gold  characters  inscribed  over  the  doors — queer  little 
phrases,  unintelligible  save  to  a Chinese  scholar,  and 
very  possibly  each  scholar  would  give  a different  in- 
terpretation. What  would  they  make,  I wonder,  of 
“ stars  many,  clouds  wait,”  or  “ gold  horse,  gem 
hall  ” ? 

In  the  courtyard  of  a temple  we  saw  some  of  the 
militia  men  belonging  to  the  “ tuan  ” (district) 
assembling  for  drill.  We  happened  to  be  on  foot  at 
the  time,  and  lingered  for  a moment  to  see  the  mili- 
tary display.  The  embryo  soldiers  gathered  round  us 
with  much  interest  and  allowed  us  to  look  at  their 
rifles.  They  were  of  the  oddest,  most  primitive  pat- 
tern and  horribly  rusty.  On  one  the  trigger  had  been 
securely  tied  down  with  string,  but  in  the  apparent 
absence  of  any  ammunition  the  trigger  was  quite  as 
serviceable  one  way  as  the  other.  Probably  the 
owners  of  the  rifles  have  to  pay  for  their  own  powder 
and  shot.  This,  I remember,  was  the  case  with  the 
armed  police  at  Chefoo,  with  the  result  that  none 
was  ever  used. 

We  asked  one  of  the  riflemen  his  age.  “ Over  ten,” 
he  replied.  Someone  murmured  sixteen,  but  he 
looked  about  twelve  ! However,  even  the  rusty  rifles 
were  an  advance  on  the  bows  and  arrows  which  were 
still  in  use  only  a few  years  back  (1898).  In  those  days 
the  “ attitude  of  the  bowman  when  discharging  his 

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China  as  I Saw  It 

shaft  was  of  more  consequence  than  the  hitting  of 
the  target  ! ” * 

People  at  Chefoo  used  to  tell  us  they  remembered 
the  Chinese  soldiers  after  the  Chino-Japanese  War 
fleeing  from  a disastrous  engagement,  many  of  them 
still  carrying  fans  and  bird-cages  ! 

According  to  one  eminent  authority,  they  have  all 
the  characteristics  of  a good  soldier,  being  “ sober, 
obedient,  easily  managed,  and  very  quick  at  learning.” 

Later  on  there  passed  us  a cavalcade  moving 
rapidly  along  the  flagged  path  amongst  the  vegetable 
fields,  soldiers  in  the  bright  scarlet  silk  jackets  slashed 
with  black  velvet,  their  “ queues  ” wound  round  their 
heads,  and  hidden  from  view  by  a black  cloth  worn 
turban  fashion,  guns  slung  across  their  shoulders, 
and  umbrellas  of  shining  yellow  oilskin.  They  were 
guarding  a long  line  of  coolies,  each  of  whom  carried 
two  heavy  wooden  boxes  containing  silver,  the  con- 
tributions, namely,  granted  by  the  various  cities  we 
have  passed  through  for  the  maintenance  of  the  pro- 
vincial army.  The  soldiers  are  paid  about  three 
“ taels  ” (nine  shillings)  a month  and  have  to  keep 
themselves  ! What  would  Tommy  Atkins  say  to  that  ? 

Coming  from  the  opposite  direction  a wedding 
procession  approached,  headed  by  men  carrying  the 
wedding  presents — joints  of  pork,  fowls  (still  alive, 
of  course),  cotton  cloths,  silk  garments,  sweetmeats  on 
trays,  furniture,  etc. — followed  by  a troop  of  little 
boys  waving  flags,  then  the  red  bridal  chair  with 

* Break-up  of  China , by  Lord  C.  Beresford. 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


scarlet  curtains  drawn,  and  finally  a ragged  band  of 
musicians  playing  nasal  music  and  beating  drums. 


Yesterday  we  did  forty  miles,  a long  stage,  and 
stopped  for  the  night  at  an  unusually  well-kept  inn, 
“ The  Fount  of  Spring.”  To-day  our  men  have 
had  an  easy  time  of  it  to  make  up,  but  poor  Deborah 
a hard  one.  An  hour  and  a half  brought  us  to  the 
banks  of  the  Ni  River,  where  we  embarked  in  boats 
— chairs,  coolies,  passengers — and  dropped  down  with 
the  swiftly  flowing  current  between  steep,  wooded 
banks  from  which  feathery  bamboos  bent  over  to 
catch  the  reflection  of  themselves  in  the  water.  We 
were  enjoying  the  change  of  locomotion  when,  alas ! 
the  sight  of  our  coolies  (several  of  whom  were  suffering 
from  scabies)  reclining  at  ease  amongst  our  cushions 
in  the  chairs  which  we  had  temporarily  deserted,  and 
which  had  been  hoisted  on  to  another  boat,  somewhat 
overshadowed  the  future. 

We  halted  for  midday  at  one  of  the  best  inns  we 
have  yet  come  across.  Our  lunch-table  stood  in- 
vitingly in  a courtyard  in  front  of  the  guest-room, 
shut  off  from  the  inn  yard  by  elaborately  ornamented 
green  gates,  and  adorned  by  shrubs  and  oleanders  in 
pots,  but  the  meal  was  delayed  by  the  disappearance 
of  Deborah.  The  “ futeo  ” was  summoned,  messen- 
gers despatched,  and  we  waited  anxiously.  A card 
had  just  been  sent  to  the  mandarin  with  a request 
for  Yamen  runners  to  scour  the  streets,  when  the 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


missing  chair  was  carried  in  at  the  gates.  The  men, 
it  seemed,  had  gone  right  through  the  town  to  some 
eating-house  of  their  own  ; Deborah  had  been  set 
down  outside  to  await  their  pleasure.  The  blame 
was  the  “ futeo’s,”  who  should  have  kept  his  men 
together. 

Hardly  had  we  commenced  our  repast  when  the 
mandarin  himself  arrived  post-haste  to  look  into  the 
matter,  and  to  apologise,  if  there  were  anything  to 
apologise  for  ! I only  mention  this  to  show  the  care 
that  is  taken  of  “ foreigners  ” in  these  days  of  com- 
pensations and  indemnities.  There  is  a saying  in 
China  that  “ when  the  officials  frown  the  dogs  frown,” 
and  just  now  the  frowns  have  changed  to  smiles,  and 
the  dogs  follow  suit. 


This  morning  five  trim  little  soldiers  instead  of 
two  appeared  to  escort  us  on  our  way,  a mark  of 
especial  attention  on  the  part  of  the  mandarin,  each 
with  blue  cotton  bag  containing  sword  and  umbrella 
slung  across  his  shoulders  like  golf  clubs ; but  we 
contrived  to  get  rid  of  three  of  them  before  we  had 
gone  far,  thereby  reducing  somewhat  the  expenses  of 
the  day.  We  had  a shrewd  suspicion  that  of  the  re- 
maining two,  one  “ sweated  out  ” his  job  to  a tramp, 
whose  sole  mark  of  office  (lent  for  the  occasion)  was 
an  official  hat  with  scarlet  crown  and  turned-up  brim ; 
his  feet  were  bare  save  for  a pair  of  old  sandals,  his 
blue  cotton  gown  old  and  shrunken,  and  his  spreading 

1 66 


TWO  MEMBERS  OF  OUR  MILITARY  AND  CIVIL  ESCORT 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  CHEXTU 


Page  166 


China  as  I Saw  It 


mushroom  hat  of  straw  hung  down  his  back  to  make 
room  for  the  borrowed  “ plume.” 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  to  the  salt  wells.  Salt, 
as  you  probably  know,  is  a Government  monopoly, 
but  even  so  it  is  absurdly  cheap.  The  wells  lined  the 
banks  of  a river,  a blue-green  river  the  colour  of  an 
Alpine  lake.  The  apparatus  was  of  the  simplest  and 
consisted  of  a wheel,  made  of  wood  and  bamboo, 
worked  by  a buffalo,  and  a bamboo  rope  about  three 
hundred  feet  long  to  which  was  attached  a bamboo 
cylinder.  This  was  lowered  into  the  well  and  by 
suction  brought  up  the  saline  water,  discharging  it 
into  a large  vat  to  be  well  boiled,  then  shifted  into 
other  vats  to  be  re-boiled,  and  so  on. 


To-day,  Sunday,  we  have  spent  at  Tsi  Cheo. 
Unfortunately,  the  best  room  was  occupied  on  our 
arrival  yesterday  by  the  soldiers  with  the  silver  who 
had  passed  us  on  the  way.  Our  bedroom  has  no 
window  at  all,  but  there  are  holes  in  the  roof  to  allow 
for  ventilation.  A latticed  door  leading  into  a back- 
yard can  be  opened  on  occasions  to  give  light.  This 
is  the  first  place  we  have  come  to  on  our  road  journey 
in  which  we  have  seen  any  English-speaking  people. 
An  American  mission  has  a station  here,  and  they 
kindly  invited  us  to  spend  the  day  at  their  pleasant 
“ American  ” house  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  overlooking 
the  town. 

Above  us,  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  stands  a great 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


Buddhist  temple,  built  in  memory  of  a water-carrier 
who  after  his  death  was  canonised,  and  his  likeness 
is  said  to  be  preserved  in  a graven  image  of  a very 
plebeian  cast  of  countenance.  Long,  long  ago,  so  the 
story  runs,  the  water-carrier  spent  day  after  day,  year 
after  year,  carrying  water  from  the  river  below  to  the 
top  of  the  hill.  He  worked  well  and  faithfully,  but 
the  day  came  when  his  strength  failed  him.  In 
despair  he  sat  himself  down  and  wept,  and  as  he 
wept,  behold,  the  gods  showed  pity.  From  the 
very  ground  at  his  feet  a well  of  clear  water  oozed 
forth.  It  is  still  there,  and  the  stone  basin  of  it  almost 
fills  the  inner  court  of  the  temple. 

We  wandered  through  the  deserted  buildings, 
where,  on  dust-clad  altars,  gilded  gods,  painted  and 
bedecked,  loomed  grotesquely  in  the  shadow.  In  one 
single  pavilion  over  a hundred  hideous  idols,  from 
giants  to  Lilliputians,  lined  the  walls.  There  are  said 
to  be  three  hundred  and  sixty  trades  in  China,  and 
every  trade  has  its  patron  divinity.  That  of  the 
tailors  goes  by  the  name  of  “ Hien  Yuen,”  and  we  are 
told  that  “ before  his  time  men  wore  raiment  of  fig- 
leaves  ” ! The  god  of  medicine  seemed  the  most 
popular  in  this  temple  of  Ts'i  Cheo.  Parts  of  his 
body  had  been  worn  into  holes  and  shiny  dents  by 
the  supplicants  of  many  generations,  who  had 
rubbed  their  own  afflicted  limbs  against  their  wooden 
counterparts. 


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China  as  I Saw  It 


On  Monday  we  started  betimes  and  travelled  for 
miles  through  interminable  vegetable  fields.  At  our 
midday  halt  the  first  room  of  the  inn  was  adorned 
with  a coffin  besides  the  customary  furniture. 
Whether  occupied  or  not  we  lacked  the  courage  to 
discover.  Fortunately  there  was  no  question  of 
spending  the  night  inside  it. 

I recollect  our  host  in  Peking  telling  us  that  he 
arrived  at  his  destination  too  late  one  day  to  find  any 
sleeping  room  in  the  inn.  The  landlord,  as  a supreme 
favour,  offered  his  new  coffin,  which  was  there  in 
the  house  ready  for  emergencies.  Our  friend,  alas  ! 
hesitated  a moment.  An  onlooker  stepped  forward 
and  offered  to  exchange  places — he  would  give  up  his 
bed  and  take  the  coffin.  The  offer  was  accepted,  but 
as  our  friend  lay  hour  after  hour  trying  in  vain  to 
sleep,  and  almost  “ eaten  up  ” by  insects  many  and 
various,  he  realised  how  much  wiser  it  would  have 
been  to  have  made  use  of  the  spotlessly  clean  and 
absolutely  new  coffin.  The  Chinese  apparently  do 
not  recoil  from  coffins  as  much  as  we  do.  I am  told 
that  people  who  are  dying  are  often  dressed  in  their 
gala  clothes  and  placed  there  ready  for  the  end  ! 


The  weather  has  turned  cold  again.  It  seems  strange 
in  these  wintry  blasts  to  see  the  sugar  harvests  being 
gathered  in.  Sugar  plantations  are  plentiful  in  this 
part  of  the  province,  and  every  now  and  again  one 
comes  across  a sugar  factory. 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


We  dropped  into  one  to  see  the  men  at  work. 
Behold  again  the  invaluable  buffalo ! A pair  yoked 
together  were  turning  great  grinding-stones,  by 
which  the  sugar-canes  were  crushed  and  the  juice 
pressed  out.  A bamboo  pipe  or  tube  conducted  the 
juice  into  a monster  vat  boiling  over  a furnace. 
There  were  seven  of  these  vats,  the  contents  of  each 
at  a different  stage  in  the  process  of  completion.  In 
the  last  of  the  seven  the  sugar  had  solidified.  It 
looked  like  toffee  of  a dark  brown-red  colour.  Men 
stood  beside  the  vats  stirring,  mixing,  and  ladling  the 
boiling  liquid  from  one  vat  to  the  other  with  long 
wooden  ladles,  throwing  in  every  now  and  then 
lumps  of  white  grease  to  keep  the  sugar  from 
sticking. 

At  TsY  Cheo  and  other  places  there  are  sugar  re- 
fineries, and  I am  told  that  black  mud  is  largely  used 
for  this  purpose.  A thick  layer  of  it  is  placed  on  top 
of  the  sugar,  and  in  course  of  time  draws  out  the 
impurities  ! 

Further  along  the  road  we  came  upon  an  old 
man  sitting  under  an  umbrella  awning,  with  a 
little  table  before  him,  who  smilingly  stopped  the 
way  ! He  handed  us  a book  of  signatures,  and  ex- 
plained that  he  was  collecting  subscriptions  for  the 
upkeep  of  this — the  main  thoroughfare  from  Ch’ong 
King  to  Chentu.  We  presented  him  with  twenty 
cents  (about  fivepence),  and  he  let  us  pass. 


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China  as  I Saw  It 


Our  last  day  on  the  road — and  a wet  one ! We 
spent  a cold  night  in  the  mountains,  and  this  morning 
had  to  climb  down  the  slippery  paved  path  to  the 
Chentu  Plain.  The  chair-bearers  could  hardly  keep 
their  feet.  First  one  slipped  and  almost  fell,  and 
then  another.  For  fear  that  the  chairs  should  go 
down  altogether  we  got  out  and  walked,  and  then  it 
was  our  turn  to  slip  and  slither.  The  bearers  were 
wearing  their  hats,  things  like  large  limpets  made  of 
straw.  They  have  a great  objection  to  getting  their 
heads  wet.  Superstition  has  it  that  every  drop  of 
rain  that  falls  on  their  hair  will  produce  a (hush  ! I 
will  whisper  the  word) — a louse  ! 

They  have  many  superstitions,  these  chair-bearers, 
and  it  seems  there  are  three  places  where  nothing  will 
induce  them  either  to  set  the  chair  down  or  shift  the 
shoulder-pole — the  front  of  a temple,  as  it  might 
offend  the  idols ; or  on  a bridge,  as  the  bridge-guardian 
will  be  annoyed  ; or  in  front  of  a chair-shop,  for 
fear  that  someone  will  take  their  job  away  from  them. 
Rather  pathetic  this  last  ! and  from  a Westerner’s 
point  of  view  it  would  not  be  much  of  a job.  They 
get  four  hundred  “ cash  ” * a day — start  work  before 
daylight,  and  go  on  very  often  till  after  dark — and 
out  of  their  earnings  they  must  pay  forty  “ cash  ” 
to  the  man  who  “ pao’s  ” f them,  and  forty  to  the 
“ futeo  ” who  looks  after  them,  and  buy  their  own 
food  and  pay  for  their  own  night’s  lodging  ; and 

* About  eightpence. 

t Recommends  them  and  guarantees  their  good  behaviour. 


China  as  I Saw  It 


when  out  of  work  it  must  be  hard  indeed  to  “ know 
how  to  go  over  the  days.”  * 

The  morning’s  trudge  brought  us  to  the  famous 
Chentu  Plain,  said  to  be  one  of  the  most  fertile 
tracts  of  land  in  China.  The  soil  bears  three,  and 
sometimes  four,  crops  in  the  year,  and  even  now,  in 
these  winter  months,  amongst  terraces  of  watery 
rice-fields,  there  are  long  green  stretches  of  young 
peas  and  budding  beans,  springing  wheat  and  poppy, 
and  probably  quantities  of  rape,  which  is  grown  chiefly 
for  oil  and  is  ubiquitous  in  Szechuan. 

But  the  Lilliputian  wheelbarrows,  which  are  a 
peculiarity  of  the  Chentu  Plain,  interested  us  more 
than  the  crops.  They  somewhat  resemble  children’s 
go-carts  made  for  adults,  and  have  one  wheel  only, 
which  runs  in  a deep  groove,  worn  down  and  smoothed 
out  by  many  generations  of  wheelbarrows  in  the  mud 
track  by  the  side  of  the  paved  road.  We  hired  a 
couple  for  the  cost  of  one  halfpenny  each  for  thirteen 
“li”  (four  miles  and  a bit),  the  market  price,  and  off 
we  went.  The  downhill  progress  was  quite  inspiriting. 
By  asking  the  man  to  “ pao  ” (run),  and  by  raising 
one’s  feet  from  the  foot-rest  by  the  wheel  so  as  not  to 
feel  the  jar,  it  was  like  a gentle  form  of  “ coasting.” 

Now  and  again  a barrow  would  approach  from  the 
opposite  direction,  and  observing  the  strange  con- 
trast of  dignity  and  absurdity  in  the  passive-faced 
Chinese  sitting  in  state  on  his  lowly  perambulator, 

* The  Chinese  equivalent  of  our  phrase  “ to  know  how  to  make 
two  ends  meet.” 


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China  as  I Saw  It 


keeping  his  silk  robes  out  of  the  mud,  we  were  given 
a chance  of  “ seeing  ourselves  as  others  see  us.” 

The  safe  passing  of  wheelbarrows  is  not  an  easy 
matter.  One,  of  course,  must  yield  possession  of  the 
groove  and  wallow  in  the  sea  of  mud  and  ruts  at 
the  side.  If  the  passenger  is  wise,  he  will  tempor- 
arily absent  himself  from  his  barrow  and  resume  his 
seat  when  the  wheel  has  once  more  got  back  to  the 
worn  track. 

It  was  getting  dark  when  we  passed  in  at  the  east 
gates  of  the  city  of  Chentu.  From  the  open  land 
and  comparative  quiet  of  the  vegetable  fields  we 
found  ourselves  suddenly  hurled  into  the  midst  of 
a surging  crowd,  a deafening  hubbub — everybody 
shouting  and  nobody  listening — each  one  trying  to 
move  on,  to  come  in  or  go  out,  and  everybody  ob- 
structing everybody  else’s  way. 

As  the  throng  heaved  to  this  side  and  that  I suddenly 
perceived  the  servant  belonging  to  our  friends  of  the 
house-boat,  who  thrust  a letter  into  my  hand.  He 
yelled  out  something  I could  not  hear,  and  I shouted 
in  return.  At  that  moment  Mr.  P.  came  to  our 
rescue.  VVe  were  expected,  it  seemed,  at  the  house  of 
some  friends  of  friends  in  the  street  of  the  “ Green 
Dragon,”  in  a far-distant  quarter  of  the  city.  It 
was  getting  late,  and  we  had  to  press  on.  So  bidding 
farewell  to  our  kind  escort,  whose  road  lay  in  another 
direction,  Deborah  and  I were  borne  away  into  the 
darkness. 

The  streets  seemed  never-ending,  and  were  but 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


dimly  lit,  merely  punctured  here  and  there  by  lamps 
belonging  to  shops.  It  was  evident  the  “ futeo  ” 
and  his  men  were  not  sure  of  the  way.  At  last,  in 
a dusky  side  street,  our  chairs  were  set  down  and  the 
bearers  gathered  round  to  rest  and  smoke.  Then  the 
“ futeo  ” bought  some  torches.  He  carried  a flaming 
one  just  in  front  of  my  chair  as  on  we  went  again. 

It  seemed  to  me  we  must  have  got  out  of  the  city 
into  the  suburbs,  out  of  the  suburbs  into  the  country, 
when  finally,  after  twisting  many  corners  and  passing 
many  walls,  we  found  ourselves  being  carried  up  the 
flagged  pathway  of  an  English  garden,  lawns  on  either 
side  of  us,  and  lights  glowing  behind  windows  under 
a deep  verandah. 

A Chinese  servant  made  us  welcome.  There  was 
no  one  at  home,  he  said,  “ they  had  all  gone  to  ‘ li- 
pai.r  ” * We  were  so  late  that  no  doubt  they  had 
given  us  up  ; but  we  felt  like  the  invaders  of  the  house 
of  the  three  bears  in  the  fairy  story  as  we  established 
ourselves  in  a luxurious  English  bedroom,  got  rid  of 
our  road-stained  garments,  and  then  dined  in  splen- 
dour, waited  on  by  the  Chinese  boy. 

Now  we  are  in  a cosy  drawing-room  that  makes  us 
think  of  home,  sunk  in  the  snug  depths  of  arm-chairs 
drawn  up  to  a blazing  fire,  with  Punch  and  a Weekly 
Pimes  to  remind  us  that  we  have  not  seen  an  English 
paper  for  several  months.  The  only  trouble  is  that 
Deborah  thinks  we  must  have  come  to  the  wrong 
house.  The  Chinese  boy  would  be  too  polite  to  tell 

* Church. 

174 


China  as  I Saw  It 


us  vve  were  not  expected,  and  his  wide  smile  is  in- 
scrutable. Anyway,  I will  finish  this  to  post,  and 
will  add  a P.S.  to  tell  you  what  happens  when  the 
“ three  bears  ” come  home. 

Yours, 

V. 

P.S. — The  sound  of  many  voices  and  the  stir  of 
many  feet  aroused  us  from  our  slumbers  by  the  fire. 
The  door  opened  to  admit  a long  stream  of  people, 
our  hostess  amongst  them,  who  allayed  Deborah’s 
fears  by  giving  us  the  heartiest  of  welcomes. 

There  seem  to  be  nine  or  ten  other  guests  here 
besides  ourselves.  All  the  foreign  residents  of  the 
city  are  apparently  keeping  open  house  this  week,  on 
the  occasion  of  the  “ West  China  Missionary  Con- 
ference,” at  which  representatives  from  all  the  western 
provinces  will  be  present,  besides  various  eminent 
sinologues  and  ecclesiastical  dignitaries  from  other 
parts  of  the  empire. 


Chentu, 

February. 

Picture  fifteen  Bank  Holidays  in  England,  one 
on  top  of  the  other,  with  no  intermission — shops 
shut — business  at  a standstill,  pleasure-makers  wearied 
to  death,  and  the  world  out  of  joint.  Transfer  the 
fifteen  Bank  Holidays  to  China  and  you  have  the 
New  Year’s  festival. 

People  will  tell  you  that  there  is  an  unwritten  law 
in  China  which  ordains  that  all  debts  shall  be  paid  at 
the  close  of  the  old  year,  and  that,  in  this  respect, 
England  might  follow  the  Chinese  lead  with  ad- 
vantage ; but  there  is  another  side  to  the  question. 
It  is  quite  true  that  the  last  few  days  before  the  advent 
of  the  new  year  half  the  population  goes  out  either 
paying  or  collecting  debts.  Very  often,  however, 
it  seems  only  a matter  of  “ readjustment  ” — borrow- 
ing from  Peter,  for  instance,  to  pay  Paul,  and  settling 
with  Peter  by  negotiating  a loan  with  Barnabas. 
No  one  seems  to  be  above  borrowing  money — in 
China.  Rich  or  poor,  it  is  all  the  same.  Debts 
appear  to  add  a zest  to  life.  But  sometimes  credit 
has  run  so  low  that  “ Peter  ” will  not  lend,  but  “ Paul,” 
according  to  the  law  of  the  land,  cannot  press  his  suit 
until  the  fifteen  days  of  the  New  Year’s  holiday  have 

176 


China  as  I Saw  It 


expired,  and  there  are  instances — not  a few — in  which 
the  debtor  goes  under  altogether,  and  takes  leave  of 
life  rather  than  “ lose  face  ” in  the  eyes  of  his  fellow- 
citizens. 

I now  realise  why,  on  leaving  Ch’ong  King,  our 
chair-bearers  were  pursued  by  the  innkeepers  at  the  first 
halting-place,  and  after  a wordy  warfare,  which  in 
one  case  ended  in  blows,  the  claims  were  settled,  or, 
at  all  events,  a truce  effected,  by  the  intervention  of 
the  “ foreign  teacher.” 

There  having  been,  therefore,  a “ general  post  ” in 
matter  of  debts,  the  next  “ game  ” to  be  played 
makes  “ confusion  worse  confounded  ” — for  during 
the  first  days  of  the  New  Year’s  holiday,  gambling, 
one  of  the  curses  of  China,  is  actually  sanctioned  by 
the  Imperial  Government,  and  at  this  time  of  the 
year  is  indulged  in  to  an  almost  incredible  extent  by 
young  and  old,  rich  and  poor,  in  the  open  street, 
in  the  courts  and  in  the  houses,  at  all  hours  of  the 
day  and  night. 

I am  glad  we  saw  Chentu  before  it  shut  up  shop 
and  retired  into  private  life.  We  had  heard  so  much 
of  this  western  metropolis,  with  all  its  modern  im- 
provements, its  schools  and  colleges,  its  arsenals 
and  mints,  its  smart  troops  and  well-trained  police 
force,  and  felt  not  a little  curious  to  see  this  ad- 
vanced city  standing  alone  in  its  glory,  in  the  midst 
of  towns  and  villages  which  savour  more  of  the  past 
than  the  present. 

In  order  to  get  a “ bird’s-eye  view  ” of  our  sur- 

n 177 


China  as  I Saw  It 


roundings,  we  climbed  up  to  the  city  wall,  and  walked 
for  a couple  of  miles  or  so  on  the  top  of  it.  Fourteen 
miles  would  have  taken  us  the  whole  way  round, 
but  there  was  no  inducement  to  go  so  far.  It  was 
the  dullest  walk  I have  had  for  some  time.  The 
top  of  the  wall — forty  feet  wide — built  of  stone, 
white  and  bare,  made  one  think  of  some  deserted 
seaside  parade,  minus  the  sea.  To  one  side  of  us  the 
flat  green  stretches  of  the  Chentu  Plain,  inter- 
minable vegetable  fields  dotted  by  tiny  wooded 
islets  of  cypress  and  bamboo,  and  away  in  the  distance 
a bank  of  clouds,  or  the  snow  mountains  of  Thibet, 
whichever  you  have  eyes  to  see.  On  the  other  side 
the  long  level  stretch  of  brown  roofs,  broken  by  an 
occasional  cluster  of  trees  or  a patch  of  allotment 
gardens — all  so  flat,  so  monotonous,  with  nothing 
standing  out,  nothing  to  arrest  attention. 

Down  in  the  streets  themselves,  however,  there  is 
no  monotony.  Chentu  is  getting  ready  for  the 
New  Year.  The  pavements  are  crowded  with  stalls 
selling  New  Year’s  “ fairings  ” ; street  hawkers  pass 
carrying  huge  bundles  of  grotesque  magenta-pink 
masks — or  wooden  erections  high  above  their  heads, 
on  which  are  displayed  to  view  highly  coloured 
pictures  of  door  gods,  in  reds  and  yellows,  blues  and 
purples,  for  pasting  on  the  doors  of  the  houses. 
New  red  lanterns  are  everywhere  in  evidence,  and 
toys  for  the  children.  Chinese  children  have  very 
few  toys,  and  those  they  have  are  probably  bought 
at  the  New  Year — kites  of  every  size  and  description, 

178 


China  as  I Saw  It 


mud  animals  covered  with  fur,  tops  caught  and  swung 
on  a string  (the  original,  probably,  of  “ diabolo  ”), 
and  stuffed  tigers — some  of  which  are  used  not  as 
toys,  but  as  pillows  for  children  who  suffer  from 
restless  nights — these  being  attributed  to  evil  spirits, 
who  are  said  to  be  afraid  of  the  “ king  of  beasts,”  as 
the  Chinese  call  the  tiger. 

The  streets  are  well  paved  and  well  policed  with 
neat  little  men  in  semi-Western  uniforms  of  dark 
blue  cloth  and  German  cheese-cutter  caps,  which 
look  strangely  comical  over  their  “queues.” 

The  house  in  which  we  are  staying  is  not  far  from 
the  gates  of  the  Manchu  city.  In  Chentu,  as  in 
Peking,  there  are  three  cities  in  one  ; but  the  Im- 
perial city  is  but  a shadow  of  its  former  self,  and  the 
Manchu  city  looks  like  a neglected  village  enclosed 
in  crumbling  walls  and  embowered  in  trees,  amongst 
which,  on  roadways  overgrown  by  moss  and  weeds, 
stand  time-worn  houses,  inhabited  by  the  descendants 
of  the  original  Manchu  garrison. 

For  more  than  two  hundred  years  they  have  lived 
“ cursed  with  a patrimony  ” as  pensioners  of  the 
Government.  It  is  not  a large  pension — merely  two 
“ taels  ” a month  (about  five  shillings  and  sixpence) 
and  their  rice  ; but  the  slatternly  women,  untidy 
children,  and  lazy-looking  men,  lounging  around  to 
see  us  pass,  show  the  deteriorating  effects  of  this 
life.  Just  lately,  however,  there  have  been  stormy 
times  in  the  Manchu  city.  Fearing  disturbances 
amongst  the  anti-dynastic  societies  with  which  the 

179 


China  as  I Saw  It 


country  is  said  to  be  riddled,  the  Government  have 
been  trying  to  curry  favour  with  the  Chinese  by 
reducing  the  Manchu  pension.  Only  a few  days 
before  our  arrival  the  irate  pensioners  had  risen  in 
rebellion.  The  Viceroy  had  been  obliged  to  come  in 
person  to  make  terms  with  the  rioters.  He  had 
quieted  them  with  vague  promises.  The  general 
opinion  is,  however,  that  the  Government  has  firmly 
decided  to  put  a stop  to  the  pension  before  long,  and 
to  compensate  by  a gift  of  land.  After  more  than 
two  hundred  years  of  idleness,  it  seems  hardly  prob- 
able that  the  Manchus  will  be  able  to  turn  into  able 
agriculturists  at  a moment’s  notice.  One  might 
just  as  well  expect  a pampered  Persian  cat  to  leave 
its  saucer  of  cream  and  get  its  own  living  in  the  stable. 
It  is  not  surprising  that  the  Manchu  should  feel  a 
little  hurt.  The  old  Imperial  city  was  even  less  im- 
pressive than  the  Manchu  city.  The  emperors  of 
olden  days  would  shudder  to  see  the  influence  of 
their  “tributary  vassals,”  the  “Western  barbarians,” 
amongst  the  ruins  of  former  glory.  There  is  little, 
indeed,  of  the  latter  still  to  be  seen — save  a grand 
old  gateway,  said  to  be  two  thousand  years  old — 
and  a bit  of  an  ancient  temple  recently  restored. 
A desolate  place  strewn  with  boulders,  weather- 
stained  and  crumbling,  is  all  that  remains  of  the  old 
examination  cells.  The  one  or  two  still  left  standing 
reminded  me  of  small  fowl-houses,  built  of  stone, 
damp  and  dark,  and  hardly  long  enough  to  lie  down 
in.  No  wonder  that  some  candidates  in  the  old  days 


China  as  I Saw  It 


went  in  never  to  come  out  again.  I have  heard  of 
“ an  average  of  twenty-five  deaths  daily  ” during 
an  examination  at  Nanking.  In  those  cells  students, 
imprisoned  for  so  many  days  and  nights,  had  to  write 
their  examination  essays.  In  spite  of  all  precautions, 
cheating  was  by  no  means  unknown.  The  essayists 
would  hide  their  papers  up  their  sleeves,  or,  by 
bribing  the  attendants,  smuggle  in  substitutes  to  do 
the  work  for  them.  But  the  old  order  has  changed 
here,  as  elsewhere.  Side  by  side  with  the  ruined 
cells  stands  the  new  Government  school,  built  of 
wood  and  plaster — new,  showy,  and  unsubstantial. 
The  thin  wooden  frames  to  doors  and  windows  are 
painted  a brilliant  royal  blue,  the  slender  walls  are 
of  dazzling  white,  the  buildings — chiefly  one  story 
high  and  built  round  paved  courts — look  as  fragile 
as  bathing  sheds.  One  asked  oneself — how  long 
would  they  last  ? And  one  thought  of  old  China, 
rigid  and  unchanging  through  the  centuries,  and  new 
China,  starting  like  a growth  of  mushrooms  in  the 
night,  breaking  out  in  patches  in  unexpected  places. 
I retract  the  word  “ mushroom.”  It  gives  a wrong 
impression,  for  Chentu,  after  all,  is  marching  with 
the  times  and  doing  wonders.  It  was  a wonder  in 
itself  to  begin  with.  I remember  that  Mrs.  Bishop, 
in  her  travels  ten  years  ago,  sang  its  praises  in  no  un- 
measured terms,  and  finished  by  saying  that  it  was 
a city  which  “ owed  absolutely  nothing  to  European 
influence.” 

The  “ wood  and  plaster  ” school  was  deserted  on 

1 8 1 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  day  of  our  visit,  as  the  pupils  had  gone  home  for 
the  New  Year.  We  were  told  they  consisted  of  boys 
who  wished  to  acquire  Western  languages,  with  a 
view  to  continuing  their  education  in  Western  lands. 
In  the  majority  of  cases  their  expenses  are  defrayed  by 
the  Government,  which  adopts  this  method  of  raising 
up  for  itself  officials  trained  in  Western  science. 

From  the  Government  school  we  passed  on  to  a 
“ Beggar  School,”  one  of  the  enterprising  reforms 
of  a certain  energetic  Chentu  official.  About  two 
hundred  beggars  were  in  residence.  In  one  melan- 
choly room  long  rows  of  them  were  waiting  apa- 
thetically the  next  turn  in  their  affairs.  They  looked 
to  be  in  every  stage  of  dirt  and  poverty,  and  some,  of 
ashen  hue,  stood  evidently  on  the  verge  of  starvation. 
Our  guide  informed  us  that  these  were  some  who  had 
only  just  been  brought  in  from  the  streets.  The 
other  rooms  presented  a more  cheerful  appearance. 
Instruction  was  being  given  in  trades,  such  as  weaving, 
glass-polishing,  book-sewing,  type-cutting,  and  alto- 
gether the  place  looked  well  ordered  and  very  fairly 
clean. 

Chentu  is  an  educational  centre.  There  arc  large 
industrial  schools,  with  a depot  in  the  town,  where 
work  done  by  the  pupils  is  offered  for  sale — silk, 
brass,  lacquer-work,  furniture,  etc.  There  are  a Normal 
College,  and  a school  for  the  sons  of  merchants  and 
officials  from  other  provinces,  a military  academy, 
and,  over  and  above  these,  the  Imperial  University,  the 
principal  of  which  is  an  Englishman.  The  main  street 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


— or  one  of  the  main  streets — showed  Western  influ- 
ence as  much  as  the  schools.  The  cheap  “ foreign  ” 
shop,  alas  ! was  much  in  evidence,  reminding  one 
of  certain  “ shoddy  ” emporiums  at  home,  in  which 
everything  is  labelled  “ sixpence -halfpenny  ” — and 
is  probably  “ made  in  Germany.”  As  a matter  of 
fact,  the  cheap  enamelled  ware,  coloured  glass  and 
sham  leather,  and  mirrors  framed  in  cardboard  and 
tinsel  over  here  in  China  are  usually  “ made  in  Japan.” 
“ Once  burnt,  twice  shy,”  the  Chinese  are  beginning 
to  find  out  that  things  are  not  what  they  seem, 
and  the  cheap  “ foreign  ” shops  will  soon  cease  to 
thrive.  Losing  our  way  in  the  labyrinth  of  streets, 
we  finally  came  to  the  post  office  and  attempted  to 
buy  post  cards,  but  they  had  none  left.  The  English- 
man in  charge  very  kindly  sent  a postman  with  us  to 
show  us  the  way  back! 

The  Viceroy  of  the  province  paid  a formal  call 
on  the  “ foreigners  ” the  other  day.  He  was  a spare, 
elderly  man,  disfigured  by  horn-rimmed  spectacles 
and  the  literary  stoop.  The  only  striking  thing 
about  him  was  his  magnificent  fur  coat.  His  retinue 
consisted  of  passive-faced  underlings,  who  stood  on 
either  side  with  the  immovability  and  something 
the  air  of  Dutch  dolls.  They  wore  wadded  garments, 
but  were  more  rotund,  however,  than  Dutch  dolls 
usually  are.  The  interpreter,  who  had  travelled  in 
Western  lands,  was  the  only  one  who  considered  it  un- 
necessary to  banish  all  life  and  intelligence  from  his 
face. 


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China  as  I Saw  It 


The  last  days  of  the  old  year  are  the  most  strenuous 
ones  of  the  whole  twelve  months.  Are  there  twelve 
or  thirteen  months  this  year  ? I forget — and  have 
no  Chinese  almanac  just  now  by  which  to  ascertain. 

To  begin  with,  provisions  for  fifteen  days  must  be 
stored,  and  a certain  amount  of  cleaning  done — and 
not  before  it  is  needed.  Then  there  are  the  debts  to 
be  seen  to,  and  new  clothes  to  be  bought  or  borrowed 
or  got  out  of  pawn,  and  new  mottoes,  proverbs,  and 
sayings  from  the  classics  on  gaily  coloured  scrolls 
pasted  on  the  doorposts  (those  in  mourning  have 
these  in  blue  or  white,  those  out  of  mourning  in 
poppy  red).  Finally,  the  “ door  gods  ” must  be 
glued  upon  the  doors.  These  are  grotesque  portraits 
of  two  famous  generals  of  the  Tang  dynasty.  After 
their  death,  the  Emperor  under  whom  they  had 
served  with  such  distinction  fell  seriously  ill.  The 
story  goes  that  the  spirits  of  the  two  generals  ap- 
peared to  him  in  a vision,  causing  him  to  recover 
from  his  illness.  The  Emperor,  in  gratitude,  deified 
them  as  door  gods  of  his  palace,  and  it  was  supposed 
that  their  presence  at  the  gates  would  prevent  the 
entrance  of  evil  spirits.  Occasionally  a more  en- 
lightened citizen  dispenses  with  the  door  gods 
and  has  these  words  inscribed  in  their  place  : “ Only 
seek  to  keep  your  conscience  void  of  offence,  then 
what  need  of  having  door  gods  ? ” On  New  Year’s 
Day  everybody  goes  out  calling  on  everybody  else. 
The  visiting  cards  are  hung  above  the  doors,  and  the 
doors  of  those  who  have  many  callers  are  fringed  with 

184 


A PORTABLE  KITCHEN 


From  Drawings  by  Xative  Artists. 

NEW  YEAR  SALUTATIONS 


Page  184 


China  as  I Saw  It 


paper ; some,  on  the  contrary,  have  hardly  any. 
There  was  something  pathetic  about  the  isolated 
card  above  a lonely  doorway,  but  anyway,  people 
are  perfectly  straightforward  in  this  matter,  and 
there  is  no  attempt  at  “ bogus  cards.”  The  calls, 
judging  from  those  at  which  I was  present,  did  not 
last  long.  Dressed  in  their  gala  clothes,  the  visitors 
raised  their  hands  in  stately  fashion  to  each  occupant 
of  the  room,  uttered  a few  polite  sentences,  smiled 
effusively — too  much  so,  I thought — and  were  gone. 
In  the  guest-hall  tea  and  cakes  were  served  to  all 
who  cared  to  partake.  The  one  rule  in  regard  to 
colours  in  the  gorgeous  costumes  of  the  girls  and  the 
younger  women  was  that  they  should  clash  instead 
of  harmonise  (or  so  it  seemed  to  my  untrained  eye) — 
trousers  of  magenta  pink,  for  instance,  topped  by 
scarlet  upper  garments,  whilst  the  “ lin  ts'f,”  an  em- 
broidered band  of  silk  worn  over  the  head,  was  a 
mixture  of  every  colour  imaginable,  in  which  violet 
and  pale  blue  predominated.  The  faces  of  all  who 
considered  themselves  becomingly  dressed  were  plas- 
tered thickly  with  powder,  and  touched  up  in  the 
most  unnatural  places  with  rouge  (the  tip  of  the  nose 
and  the  eyelids  being  sometimes  included). 

On  the  second  day  of  the  New  Year  two  women 
and  a child,  whom  we  had  never  seen  before  in 
our  lives,  came  into  the  room,  and  after  the  cus- 
tomary salutations,  I talked  to  the  child — an  attractive 
little  girl  of  four  or  five — whereupon  the  mother 
instantly  offered  to  give  her  to  me  “ for  my  very 

185 


China  as  I Saw  It 

own,”  and  pressed  the  gift  when  I laughingly  de- 
clined. 

Feasting  is  the  chief  joy  of  New  Year’s  Day. 
“ Tsan,”  the  kitchen  god,  becomes  an  especially 
important  personage  at  this  season  of  the  year. 
He  is  credited  with  an  intimate  knowledge  of  every- 
body’s faults  and  misdeeds.  When  he  makes  his 
annual  journey  up  to  heaven,  people  smear  his  lips 
with  sugar  before  he  goes,  in  order  to  induce  him  to 
give  a good  report  of  their  doings.  He  starts  on  the 
first  day  of  the  year,  and  all  who  can  afford  to  do  so, 
furnish  him  with  paper  horses  and  other  necessaries 
for  the  journey.  On  the  fourth  of  the  month  he 
returns,  and  great  preparations  are  made  for  welcom- 
ing him  back. 

On  New  Year’s  Eve  everybody  sits  up  to  watch  the 
New  Year  in,  in  order  that  their  “ days  may  be  long 
in  the  land.”  As  soon  as  midnight  is  over  the  worship 
of  the  ancestral  tablets  takes  place,  and  homage  is 
paid  to  that  part  of  the  heavens  indicated  by  the 
almanac  as  being  the  quarter  from  which  the  “ spirit 
of  gladness  ” is  said  to  emanate.  Then  they  start 
in  with  their  fifteen  Bank  Holidays,  one  on  top  of 
the  other,  and  we  meanwhile  stand  outside  “ pawing  ” 
the  ground  impatiently  and  longing  to  be  off  ; but 
the  first  difficulty  is  a servant — there  are  none  to  be 
had  at  New  Year’s  time,  and  an  attendant  of  some 
kind  is  essential  for  our  next  journey,  as  we  shall 
no  longer  have  friends  to  depend  on  and  must  shift 
for  ourselves.  The  next  requirement  is  a tailor ; 

1 86 


China  as  I Saw  It 


but  at  New  Year’s  time  tailors  will  not  work  for  love 
or  money.  It  is  the  same  story  throughout.  The 
washer-man,  the  shoemaker,  the  furrier,  all  are  holiday- 
making. The  more  respectable  the  shop  and  the 
better  the  business,  so  much  the  longer  do  the  shutters 
remain  closed. 

Meanwhile,  we  wait  outside  and  shiver.  The 
weather  is  cold.  They  say  the  coldest  part  of  the 
winter  is  always  at  this  season  of  the  year.  The  wind 
blows  like  a snow  wind,  but  it  is  the  rarest  thing  ever 
to  have  snow  in  Szechuan.  One  realises,  however, 
it  must  be  warmer  than  it  feels,  for  there  are  double 
daisies  blooming  in  the  gardens,  and  sweet-williams 
coming  into  flower.  The  raw  dampness  of  the  air, 
however,  is  so  penetrating  that  nobody  feels  warm, 
except,  perhaps,  the  Chinese  themselves,  who  are 
almost  twice  as  large  now  as  they  are  in  the  summer, 
on  account  of  their  many  layers  of  wadded  and  fur- 
lined  garments.  They  cannot  understand  why  the 
“ Western  barbarians  ” waste  so  much  of  their  money 
in  coal  which  -perishes,  instead  of  investing  it  in  furs — 
which  last.  The  Chinese  are  past-masters  in  the  art  of 
keeping  furs  ; many  of  the  more  wealthy  send  theirs 
to  the  pawnshops  for  the  summer,  simply  to  save 
themselves  trouble.  They  are  returned  at  the  com- 
mencement of  winter — in  excellent  condition.  I 
have  been  trying  to  buy  myself  a fur  garment  for 
my  own  wear,  as,  under  the  erroneous  impression 
that  the  Szechuan  climate  was  the  same  as  that  of 
the  north  of  Egypt  (the  latitude  of  Chentu  being 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


nearly  similar  to  that  of  Cairo),  I have  not  brought 
anything  of  that  kind  with  me  ; but  once  again  we 
are  met  with  the  unanswerable  argument,  “ This  is 
the  ‘ Ko  Nien  ’ (New  Year),  no  fur  shops  are  open.” 
In  spite  of  closed  shutters  and  barred  doors,  the 
streets  are  still  full  of  colour.  The  red  lanterns 
bobbing  over  doorways,  the  red  scrolls  on  the  door- 
posts, the  gay  portraits  of  the  door  gods  on  the 
doors,  the  loiterers  and  passers-by  in  festive  clothing, 
baby  children  in  scarlet  tunics,  elder  girls  in  trousers 
of  poppy  red,  their  fathers  in  sumptuous  gowns  of 
purple  silk  or  pale  green  and  golden  plush,  and  the 
women  with  knots  of  artificial  flowers  of  every  colour 
of  the  rainbow  in  their  black  hair.  A Chinese  woman’s 
hair  is  always  immaculately  tidy — rich  or  poor,  it  is 
all  the  same.  The  smooth,  oiled  tresses  coiled  tightly 
round  have  almost  the  appearance  of  glossy  black 
satin.  They  shake  their  heads  over  the  untidy  “ curly  ” 
locks  of  the  “foreign  women,”  and  wonder  why  they 
do  not  use  a brush  and  comb 

But  to  go  back  to  the  New  Year. 

In  one  of  the  principal  streets  we  came  across  a 
“ shadow  show.”  The  stage — a rough  platform 
mounted  on  poles ; the  actors — marionettes  cleverly 
manipulated  by  unseen  men  in  the  background. 
Between  the  stage  and  the  audience  there  hung  a 
white  curtain,  which  added  a charm  and  mystery  to 
the  scene.  Thus  the  shadows  of  the  marionettes  were 
all  one  could  see,  and  so  strangely  real  did  they  ap- 
pear— softened  and  idealised  by  the  curtain — that  one 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


could  almost  have  imagined  them  to  be  real  people 
of  a Lilliputian  race.  Our  presence  in  the  crowd  had 
probably  been  noticed,  for  after  a bit  a new  marionette 
appeared  on  the  stage,  which,  from  its  pinched  waist, 
hideous  hat,  and  absurd  anatomy,  suggested  the 
“ foreigner  ” as  seen  and  portrayed  by  the  Chinese. 
The  crowd  appeared  amused  ; we  could  not  under- 
stand what  was  being  said,  and  considered  it  best 
to  move  on. 


We  had  thought  of  travelling  back  overland  by 
the  north  of  the  province,  but  our  friends  strongly 
dissuaded  us  from  doing  this.  Had  they  known  a 
reliable  man  to  send  with  us,  it  might  be  different, 
but  just  at  this  time  of  the  year  it  seems  uncommonly 
difficult  to  find  anyone  at  all  in  the  way  of  a servant. 
The  chair-bearers  would  probably  require  most 
of  their  money  in  advance,  and  perceiving  our 
ignorance  of  the  language,  and  seeing  that  we  were 
absolutely  at  their  mercy,  might  very  likely  set  us 
down  in  some  lonely  place  and  make  off — the  Yamen 
runners  following  suit.  We  were  reminded  of  Mrs. 
Bishop’s  Yamen  runners,  who  deserted  her  the  moment 
she  was  attacked,  and  afterwards  excused  themselves 
by  saying,  “ Of  what  use  were  two  against  two  thou- 
sand ? ” 

The  only  alternative  that  remains  is  to  go  back  by 
water,  travelling  down  the  River  Min  till  it  joins  the 
Yangtse  at  Sui  Fu,  and  thence  on  to  Ch’ong  King. 

189 


China  as  I Saw  It 


This  journey  should  take  about  twelve  days,  allowing 
for  halts  by  the  way. 

Meanwhile  we  are  planning  a short  overland  trip 
to  Kuan  Hsien  to  see  the  wonderful  irrigation  works, 
made  something  like  two  hundred  years  before  the 
Christian  era,  and  to  which  the  plain  of  Chentu  owes 
its  great  fertility. 

A servant  has  at  last  been  found.  He  is  still  holiday- 
making, however,  and  will  not  be  able  to  come  till 
next  week,  but  has  sent  a substitute  called  Lao  Cheo — 
a respectably  dressed  “ country  bumpkin,”  who  has 
never  waited  on  “ foreigners  ” before. 


We  must  have  looked  a melancholy  little  party 
passing  out  of  the  city  gate  the  morning  of  our  start. 
Two  “ three-bearer  ” chairs,  a depressed  coolie  carry- 
ing bedding,  a couple  of  Yamen  soldiers  in  scarlet 
silk  jackets  and  bare  feet,  and  Lao  Cheo,  with  his 
blue  garments  tucked  up  carefully  out  of  the  mud, 
holding  a yellow  oil-skin  umbrella.  It  was  raining 
piteously,  and  distinctly  cold.  Everybody  looked 
miserable — either  shivering  outside  their  open-fronted 
shops  over  charcoal  foot-warmers,  or  wading  dejectedly 
through  the  black  mud.  Most  of  the  pedestrians 
were  bare-footed,  some  of  necessity,  others  for 
economical  reasons,  as  it  is  a pity  to  spoil  boots  by 
wearing  them  in  such  bad  weather.  Our  chair- 
bearers  kept  shouting  to  each  other  “ Hua  teh  hen  ! 
hua  teh  hen!”  (“Extremely  slippery”).  It  was  a 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


marvel  that  they  did  not  go  over  altogether — and  the 
chairs  into  the  bargain.  We  were  numbed  with  cold 
and  suggested  walking ; but  Lao  Cheo  and  the  soldiers 
shook  their  heads.  “ Tseo  puh  teh  ! ” (“Walk  not 
attain  ” !)  they  said,  and  they  were  right.  We  lunched 
in  a squalid  inn,  where  the  best  room  was  a small 
stable  with  a bed.  Lao  Cheo  was  wishful  to  help, 
but  horribly  puzzled  by  our  strange  foods,  particu- 
larly the  tinned  things.  Finally  we  presented  him 
with  a clean  dish-cloth  and  told  him  to  “ wash  up.” 
At  which  he  proceeded  to  wipe  round  the  greasy 
plates,  etc.,  with  the  dish-cloth,  and  mums  water  ! 
We  explained  ourselves  more  clearly,  and  Lao  Cheo 
went  off  in  haste,  but  this  time  washed,  not  the  lun- 
cheon things,  but  the  dish-cloth  ! 

That  night  we  stayed  at  Pi  Hsien,  and  appropriated 
the  guest-rooms.  The  sitting-room  was  roofed  in, 
but  rather  bereft  of  walls  ; and,  as  the  night  was  cold, 
we  retreated  into  two  little  bedrooms  at  the  side, 
surprisingly  well  furnished  with  a couple  of  chairs 
and  a table,  to  say  nothing  of  the  enormous  wooden 
bedsteads,  on  which  Lao  Cheo  made  up  the  beds, 
though  considerably  puzzled  by  the  English  sheets 
and  pillows,  and  not  knowing  what  to  do  with 
them. 

The  Chinese,  when  they  go  to  bed,  roll  themselves 
in  their  wadded  quilts,  and  look  like  chrysalises. 
One  thick  quilt  is  amply  sufficient,  yet  here  were 
these  “ foreigners  ” with  two  thick  quilts  apiece  and 
blanket  rugs,  and  linen  sheets,  and  a couple  of  pillows. 

191 


China  as  I Saw  It 

Truly  these  “ outside  Kingdom  men  ” are  strange 
beings  ! 

We  ordered  “ ki  tan  ” (eggs)  for  supper,  and  when 
the  eggs  were  brought  I asked  for  “ kan  fan  ” (rice), 
which  is  generally  to  be  found  in  an  inn  kitchen  out 
here  in  this  rice-growing  province.  Lao  Cheo  was 
some  time  gone,  and  finally  brought  more  eggs.  We 
gave  up  the  rice  as  hopeless.  Probably  I had  made  fan 
sound  like  tan , or  used  a wrong  tone  of  voice. 

We  had  meant  to  spend  the  next  afternoon  at 
Kuan  Hsien,  but  we  had  “ counted  without  the  rain.” 
For  every  five  steps,  it  seemed  to  me,  we  slipped 
back  one — slithering  in  the  mud.  As  the  day  ad- 
vanced, however,  both  weather  and  scenery  improved. 
From  the  highly  cultivated  but  rather  monotonous 
surroundings  of  Chentu  we  passed  into  the  richly 
wooded  plain  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  Bamboos, 
cypress  trees,  a species  of  myrtle,  and  willows  were 
growing  with  almost  tropical  luxuriance  in  clumps 
and  groves  over  a flat  stretch  of  country,  which  ended 
suddenly  at  the  foot  of  steep,  mountainous  hills, 
wooded  even  more  thickly  than  the  plain,  but  wreathed 
round  the  summit  with  freshly  fallen  snow. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  we  had  sent  on  one  of  our 
soldiers  with  a note  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  of  the  China 
Inland  Mission,  asking  if  they  would  kindly  put  us 
up  for  the  night.  We  fondly  hoped  he  had  arrived 
some  time  in  advance,  but  it  seems  he  appeared  about 
two  minutes  before  we  did.  Our  friends  swallowed 
their  surprise  with  commendable  skill,  and  from  the 

192 


China  as  I Saw  It 


welcome  they  gave  us  we  might  have  thought  we 
had  been  expected  for  weeks.  The  house  was  a 
Chinese  house — one-storied  buildings  round  paved 
courts,  and  gates  leading  out  of  a street  lined  with 
memorial  arches.  T^iere  were  no  stoves,  and  some 
of  the  windows  were  of  paper  ; but  a picturesque 
brass  pan  on  an  “ ebony  ” stand  filled  with  glowing 
charcoal  did  excellent  duty  for  a fire  in  the  sitting- 
room,  and  was  far  more  artistic  than  a grate  and  a 
mantelpiece. 

The  next  day  (in  drizzling  rain,  alas  !)  we  started 
forth  to  see  the  irrigation  works.  “ The  magnificent 
engineering  feat  achieved  by  the  Chinese  in  the  year 
200  b.c. — and  achieved  by  accident.”  This  is  sup- 
posed to  be  a quotation,  but  I object  to  the  words 
“ by  accident.”  Why  not  say  the  Chinese  invented 
porcelain,  and  printing,  and  gunpowder,  and  the 
mariner’s  compass  also  by  accident  ? but  for  these 
things  they  are  given  due  credit. 

To  a certain  prefect,  Li  Ping,  and  his  son  is  as- 
signed the  honour  of  the  work.  A river  of  no  great 
size  flowing  from  the  Thibetan  mountains  is  divided 
into  two  (called  officially  the  inner  and  the  outer 
river).  The  two  are  subdivided  into  three,  and  all 
along  the  banks  of  the  three  are  innumerable  Lilli- 
putian canals. 

And  now  for  the  engineering  feat.  Leaving  the 
city  to  the  right  of  us,  we  made  our  way  along  a 
grass-grown  path  beneath  the  trees  at  the  side  of 
a wide,  shallow,  quickly-flowing  river.  Fishermen 

o 193 


China  as  I Saw  It 


wading  through  waist-deep  were  fishing  for  trout. 
The  river  disappeared  round  a wooded  corner,  and 
we  pursued  it  in  its  course,  not  by  way  of  the 
banks,  but  through  the  grounds  of  a temple  on  the 
height  of  a wooded  knoll ; but  the  river  had  changed 
its  character  when  next  we  saw  it.  The  waters  had 
narrowed  and  deepened,  and  the  colour  was  like  the 
blue-green  of  a glacier  lake,  as  it  flowed  at  the  foot  of 
a shadowy  cleft  between  rocky  precipices  a hundred 
feet  deep.  Over  on  the  rocks,  amongst  the  trees, 
stands  the  Er’wang  temple,  built  in  memory  of 
the  famous  Li  Ping  and  his  son  ; and  this  river  of 
glorious  emerald  flowing  at  the  foot  of  the  precipices 
is  not  a natural  river,  after  all,  but  the  first  of  the 
artificial  waterways,  and  the  rocks,  one  hundred  feet 
high,  have  been  broken  through  (probably  by  blasting) 
as  long  ago  as  200  b.c.  ! In  summer  time,  when  the 
river  is  full,  the  immense  flood  sweeping  through 
the  gorge  might  cause  unspeakable  damage,  if  left 
to  itself.  It  has,  however,  been  cleverly  contrived 
that  the  surplus  water,  in  smashing  against  the  rocks, 
is  thrown  back  with  tremendous  force  into  the 
overflow,  which  exactly  faces  the  hill  that  was  cut 
away  by  Li  Ping,  and  from  the  overflow  it  finds  its 
way  back  to  the  original  bed. 

Descending  from  the  temple  knoll  we  pursued  our 
steps  along  the  stony  banks  of  the  “ emerald  river  ” 
beyond  the  cutting,  to  see  the  point  at  which  its 
waters  flow  from  the  parent  stream.  Men  were  busy 
repairing  the  old  embankments,  which  were  formed 

194 


ARTIFICIAL  GORGE,  KUAN  HSIEN 


From  Photographs  by  A . Grainger. 

TEMPORARY  DAM,  KUAN  HSIEN 


Pa^e  1Q4 


China  as  I Saw  It 


of  bamboo  baskets,  like  giant  waste-paper  baskets, 
ten  feet  or  more  in  length,  packed  tightly  with  stones 
large  and  small.  When  full,  the  baskets  are  placed 
one  on  top  of  the  other,  until  a strong  fortification  is 
erected.  The  cost  of  keeping  up  these  irrigation 
works  is  considerable,  and  is  met  in  part  by  taxes 
levied  on  the  various  counties  (“hsien”)  which  benefit 
by  the  water  supply,  and  in  part  by  the  Government. 
The  plain  of  Chentu  measures  about  two  hundred  by 
three  hundred  “ li,”  * and  is  watered  almost  exclusively 
by  the  streams  which  have  been  made  to  flow  from 
the  river  of  Kuan  Hsien.  The  labour  employed  is 
extensive.  The  embankments  of  each  waterway 
are  thoroughly  repaired  every  year.  In  order  to 
do  this  the  water  is  cut  off  from  each  one  in  turn  by 
means  which  are  as  simple  as  they  are  efficacious. 
As  we  arrived  at  the  junction  of  the  “ emerald  river  ” 
with  the  old  and  original  river,  the  barricade  by 
which  the  water  is  to  be  cut  off  from  the  former  in 
a few  days’  time  was  just  in  process  of  completion. 
Great  tripods  of  wooden  staves  were  firmly  fixed  in 
the  river  bed,  and  between  bamboo  mats  a strong 
fortification  had  been  made  of  the  ubiquitous  stones, 
the  weight  of  the  whole  resting  for  support  on  the 
tripods. 

A short  walk  further  up  the  valley  brought  us  to 
a famous  rope  bridge — a quarter  of  a mile  in  length, 
and  formed  of  six  strands  of  stout  rope,  on  the  top 
of  which  loose  planks  were  strewn  crosswise.  There 
* Three  “ li  ” one  English  mile. 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


were  also  rails  of  rope,  and  the  whole  bridge  curved 
in  the  most  graceful  fashion,  rising  where  stone  sup- 
ports fixed  in  the  ground  kept  the  ropes  up,  and  dipping 
downwards  between  the  supports.  It  swayed  con- 
siderably, but  was  evidently  immensely  strong ; 
sedan-chairs,  coolies  bearing  heavy  burdens,  buffaloes, 
pigs,  and  a never-ceasing  stream  of  people  pass 
and  re-pass  all  day  long.  We  completed  our 
Kuan  Hsien  excursion  by  a visit  to  Li  Ping’s 
gorgeous  temple,  one  of  the  finest  in  the  whole  of 
China. 

We  climbed  the  hill  to  the  golden  gates — gates 
that  are  one  glittering  mass  of  gilded  carving — and 
passed  up  long  flights  of  wide  steps  to  one  courtyard 
after  another.  The  whole  place  was  beautifully 
kept.  There  was  an  air  of  prosperity  and  dignity 
very  unusual  in  Taoist  temples ; the  polished  lacquer 
columns,  the  dazzle  of  gold  and  colour,  the  carving, 
and  the  fretwork,  all  played  a part  in  the  scheme 
of  beauty.  We  were  pointed  out  Li  Ping’s  motto 
inscribed  in  gilt  characters  : “ Dig  the  channels 

deep,  keep  the  banks  low.”  We  passed  up  flight  after 
flight,  through  court  into  court,  and  still  had  only 
seen  one-half  of  the  temple  buildings.  Here  and 
there  green  and  leafy  gardens  hovered  in  stray  nooks, 
where,  in  spite  of  the  inclement  weather,  primulas 
and  camellias  were  in  full  flower.  We  were  taken  to 
a pond  of  “ sacred  ” turtles  hiding  under  rocks 
wreathed  in  drooping  maidenhair — and  we  stood 
under  a sacred  tree — a myrtle  said  to  be  nearly  four 

196 


China  as  I Saw  It 


hundred  years  old — around  which  incense  sticks  were 
burning  steadily. 

The  next  day,  fortunately,  the  rain  held  off ; we 
had  slept  the  night  at  Chang  Lin  Pu,  and  started  off 
at  five  the  next  morning,  hoping  to  get  to  Chentu 
before  the  closing  of  the  city  gates.  The  Chentu 
gatekeepers  have  a method  of  their  own.  At  dusk  a 
small  candle  is  lighted  by  way  of  warning,  and  the 
moment  the  candle  burns  itself  out  the  gates  are 
flung  to,  and  may  only  be  opened  after  that  in  ex- 
treme cases  of  life  and  death. 

To-day,  the  sixteenth  of  the  second  month,  or  the 
fifteenth  of  the  first  (according  to  Chinese  reckoning), 
is  the  last  day  of  the  New  Year  holidays,  and  cele- 
brated in  many  parts  of  China  by  the  “ Lantern 
Festival  ” ; but  in  Chentu — this  “ advanced  ” Western 
metropolis — the  officials  have  put  a stop  to  the  pro- 
cession altogether  as  being  a frequent  cause  of  fire. 
It  seemed  to  me,  however,  that  most  of  the  citizens 
had  gone  out  that  evening,  just  as  we  had,  for  the 
purpose  of  discovering  if  there  were  anything  to  be 
seen  ; but  besides  the  dense  crowd,  the  only  unusual 
episode  was  the  appearance  on  the  scene  of  the 
“ hsien  ” official  with  his  military  escort : they  were 
dashing  down  the  street  with  the  fury  of  a London 
fire-engine.  The  crowd  fell  back  in  haste  to  let  them 
pass.  Who,  I wonder,  would  care  to  be  a “ hsien  ” 
official  ? Like  the  fire-engine,  he  has  to  be  always 
ready,  day  and  night,  to  go  to  any  part  of  the  city 
where  his  presence  may  be  needed.  If  there  are 

197 


China  as  I Saw  It 

disturbances  in  the  streets,  it  is  he  who  will  be  held 
to  blame  ! 


February  \yth. 

To-day  Deborah  and  I start  off  on  our  journey 
down  the  Min,  but  instead  of  finding  our  new  servant 
on  the  scene  awaiting  our  commands,  the  principal 
of  the  University  has  appeared,  and  has  come  to 
warn  us  that  this  excellent  servant  who  has  been 
engaged  is  an  excellent  servant  of  his  own.  He 
asked  leave  a day  or  so  ago  to  go  to  his  home  to  “ bury 
his  father.”  His  master’s  suspicions  were  aroused, 
and  this  morning  he  discovered  that  the  funeral 
in  question  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a 
journey  down  the  river  with  two  foreign  ladies  — 
the  reason  for  this  crooked  behaviour  being  twofold. 
The  servant  was  desirous  of  leaving  his  old  situa- 
tion, as  he  did  not  get  on  well  with  his  fellow-servants, 
and  by  obtaining  a post  as  “ ta-si-fu  ” * to  the 
foreign  ladies,  he  would  succeed  in  bettering  his 
position,  and  would  henceforth  be  able  to  command 
the  higher  wage  of  a cook  instead  of  that  of  “ second 
boy,”  his  present  position.  According  to  Chinese 
etiquette,  he  could  not  have  given  notice  in  the 
usual  way,  as  that  would  have  meant  “ losing  face.” 
The  “ burying  of  the  dead  ” seems  a time-honoured 
excuse  in  China.  Hence  a Chinese  explaining  the 
words,  “ Let  the  dead  bury  their  dead,”  said  it  was 

* Cook. 

198 


China  as  I Saw  It 


evident  that  Christ  knew  there  were  no  dead  to  bury, 
and  that  the  people  were  making  idle  excuses. 

We  feared  our  journey  would  have  to  be  postponed 
once  again,  but  in  less  than  an  hour  another  servant 
was  produced — Lao  Tsong — a queer,  wizened  little 
man  with  a sharp  face  and  eyes  like  a ferret’s. 

He  was  an  excellent  cook,  they  said,  but  had  one 
great  failing,  which  had  cost  him  one  situation  after 
another — namely,  a highly  developed  capacity  for 
“ squeezing  ” and  over-“  squeezing,”  recognising  no 
limit  to  “ squeezing  ” so  long  as  he  himself  was  not 
“ squeezed.”  * 

However,  on  the  boat,  our  friends  suggest,  his  pur- 
chases will  be  of  the  most  limited  order,  and  he  will 
not  get  much  opportunity  for  exercising  his  particular 
weakness. 

By  the  way,  to  ensure  good  health  for  the  coming 
year  we  should  have  taken  a stroll  to-day  on  the  city 
walls.  All  the  world  and  his  wife  were  there — crowds 
of  them — coming  and  going.  The  “ Hundred  Disease 
Stroll,”  they  call  it,  and  the  sixteenth  of  the  first 
month  is  its  day. 

We  start  on  our  boat  journey  this  afternoon — 
the  boat  a small  Wu  Pan  with  an  arched  roof  of 
matting,  under  which  Deborah  and  I are  to  live  for 
twelve  days.  The  rest  of  the  party  consists  of  Lao 
Tsong,  the  ferret,  a couple  of  ragged,  miserable- 
looking  Yamen  runners  (probably  beggars  to  whom 

* “Squeeze” — make  an  illicit  profit  out  of  every  transaction  in 
which  he  is  concerned.  China  in  Decay. 

199 


China  as  I Saw  It 


this  job  has  been  sweated  out),  and  a small  crew  of 
four  men,  including  the  captain.  Lao  Tsong  looks  to 
have  all  his  wits  about  him.  The  only  trouble  is  he 
may  turn  out  to  be  a bit  too  clever. 

I will  post  this  before  we  leave.  It  will  be  carried 
overland  to  Wanhsien,  I expect,  and  get  there  long 
before  we  shall. 

Yours, 

V. 


200 


On  the  River  Min, 

February , 1908. 

Here  we  are,  two  thousand  miles  in  the  interior 
of  China  on  a river  that  is  running  dry.  For  hours 
upon  hours  the  crew  have  been  pushing  and  pulling 
us  through  the  mud  and  the  stones.  Now  and  again 
our  boat  is  literally  carried,  not  on  the  water,  of 
which  but  a few  cupfuls  remain,  but  on  the  shoul- 
ders of  the  men.  None  but  Chinese — plodding,  per- 
severing, patient  Chinese — would  think  it  worth 
while  to  attempt  a river  journey  under  such 
baffling  circumstances. 

Various  methods  were  resorted  to  in  order  to 
lighten  our  weight.  The  two  shabby  Yamen  soldiers 
were  put  on  shore  to  walk,  and  late  in  the  evening, 
just  as  Deborah  and  I were  thinking  of  turning  in,  a 
request  came  for  our  boxes.  We  were  loth  to  let 
them  go,  fearing  we  might  never  see  them  again,  but 
Lao  Tsong  assured  us  it  would  be  all  right.  They 
were  to  be  shipped  on  to  another  junk,  and  we  should 
have  them  in  the  morning.  The  boxes  having  gone, 
they  proceeded  to  remove  the  planks  from  the  bottom 
of  the  boat,  the  cooking  utensils,  the  men’s  bedding, 
even  our  servant.  It  was  getting  late,  but  apparently 
no  one  meant  to  go  to  bed  that  night  except  Deborah 


201 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  myself.  We  subsided  at  last  on  to  our  primitive 
couches,  wadded  quilts  on  palm-leaf  mattresses  spread 
out  on  the  floor,  and  fell  asleep  to  the  loud  grating 
noise  of  the  boat  being  dragged  through  the  mud  and 
over  the  stones,  whilst  the  men  shouted  instructions 
one  to  the  other. 

We  must  have  progressed  considerably  in  the 
night. 

The  next  morning,  mercifully,  the  river  was  deep 
enough  for  the  boat  to  float.  Now  and  then  a stretch 
of  rapid  water  carried  us  on  at  a tremendous  pace. 
By  the  end  of  the  week  we  hope  to  be  in  Kiating. 
Meanwhile  Lao  Tsong,  the  “ weasel,”  turns  us  out 
elegant  repasts,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  we  have 
furnished  him  with  no  cooking  utensils  whatever,  ex- 
cept a kettle  and  an  egg  saucepan,  and  the  simplest 
of  provisions.  They  say  the  Chinese  are  born  cooks, 
and  equal  to  the  French ; but  they  surpass  the 
French  in  the  skill  with  which  they  succeed  in  making 
“ bricks  without  straw,”  and  turn  out  a dainty  dish 
with  ingredients  which  a French  “ chef  ” would  prob- 
ably consign  to  the  pig-tub.  The  captain’s  “ ko,” 
a kind  of  metal  cauldron  over  a charcoal  stove,  was 
Lao  Tsong’s  kitchener,  and  by  dint  of  cooking  a large 
number  of  his  dishes  in  basins  by  means  of  steam, 
placing  one  on  top  of  the  other,  he  contrived  to 
turn  out  a meal  of  several  courses — soup,  vegetables, 
sauces,  chicken,  beef,  and  sweets. 

He  never  missed  an  opportunity  of  going  on  shore  to 
do  some  marketing,  and  in  the  evening  would  come 


202 


China  as  I Saw  It 


humbly  forward  and  request  me  to  “ suan  chang  ” 
(make  up  accounts).  We  thought  of  his  “ squeez- 
ing’’ propensities  as  he  ran  over  the  list  of  things 
purchased — charcoal  (2^d.),  cloves  (half  a farthing), 
pepper  (^d.),  sugar  (i£d.),  vegetables  (|d.),  oranges 
(id.),  dish-cloths  (^d.),  etc.,  etc. ; but  the  sum  total 
came  to  so  small  an  amount,  from  a Western 
point  of  view,  that  it  was  only  by  the  twinkle  in  the 
ferret  eyes  that  one  guessed  that  the  able  Lao 
Tsong  was  adding  another  small  feather  to  his  private 
nest. 

At  Kiating  we  spent  a couple  of  days  with  old 
Chcfoo  acquaintances  at  the  China  Inland  Mission. 
Kiating  had  just  awakened  from  its  “ New  Year’s  ” 
sleep,  and  the  streets  were  gaily  coloured  pictures 
framed  in  mist,  narrow  pavements  festooned  with 
red  lanterns  climbing  slowly  uphill  under  elaborately 
carved  and  richly  ornamented  memorial  arches. 

We  spent  a morning  amongst  the  silk  and  fur  shops 
with  our  host,  and  after  long  hours  I effected  my 
wished-for  purchase  of  a fur-lined  robe.  It  was  a 
lengthy  business,  and  in  every  shop  the  same  scene 
was  enacted.  First  the  wished-for  garments  had  to 
be  unearthed  from  some  back  store-house.  Looking 
them  over,  we  detected  the  greasy  stain  of  a pig-tail 
down  the  centre  of  the  back,  and  we  remarked  that 
these  garments  were  evidently  not  new.  The  fur- 
riers, however,  smilingly  asserted  that  they  were 
perfectly  new,  and  the  stain  was  of  no  consequence. 
The  bargaining  was  conducted  in  so  friendly  a spirit 

203 


China  as  I Saw  It 


that  one  might  have  thought  some  big  joke  was  going 
on  by  the  smiles  and  laughter  on  the  part  of  all  con- 
cerned. Finally,  four  or  five  furriers  were  asked  to 
send  up  their  respective  furs  to  the  foreigner’s  house 
for  further  inspection  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon. 
It  was  a significant  fact  that  they  all  came  in  turn 
one  after  the  other  without  ever  colliding,  and  also 
that  all  the  garments  brought  were  distinctly  second- 
hand, and  the  one  new  one  never  appeared  at  all. 

The  plan  out  here  seems  to  be  to  try  and  get  rid 
of  the  rubbish  first.  We  won  the  day,  however,  in 
the  long  run,  thanks  to  mine  host  and  an  ex-Chinese 
merchant  called  in  to  assist.  The  “ new  ” coat  (prob- 
ably even  that  was  not  absolutely  new)  was  bought 
for  about  five  pounds,  the  furrier  protesting  angrily 
at  the  very  end  that  he  did  not  want  to  sell.  I sup- 
pose that  is  all  part  of  the  “ contraryism  ” of  things 
out  here — to  look  angry  when  you  are  pleased,  and 
vice  versa. 

We  passed  a group  of  Thibetans  in  the  street — 
huge,  wild-looking  men  with  rough,  black  hair  in 
thick,  curling  masses  and  odoriferous  clothing  of  sheep 
and  yak-skin,  which  had  long  ceased  to  be  white. 
One  (a  priest),  in  dingy  scarlet,  was  buying  devotional 
trophies  in  a brass  shop,  and  they  were  probably  all 
of  them  on  their  way  to  the  sacred  mountain  Omei 
Shan,  thirty  miles  distant,  and  looked  peaceable 
enough  ; but  our  friends  told  us  they  could  soon  be 
roused  to  fury,  and  that  one  day  a Thibetan,  armed 
with  a sword  and  seeing  a passer-by  looking  at  him 

204 


China  as  I Saw  It 


with  amused  interest,  whipped  out  his  weapon  and 
would  have  slashed  out  at  the  spectators  had  they 
not  beaten  a hasty  retreat. 

Kiating  is  a typical  city  of  Szechuan — flung  down 
between  two  rivers  and  wrapped  in  mist ; but  even 
now  in  this  damp,  cold  atmosphere  beautiful  flowers 
are  blooming  in  the  gardens — tawny  red  orchids, 
crimson  hellebores  and  camellias  in  rich  clusters  of 
colour  under  leafy  palms,  and  giant  teak  trees  which 
tower  against  the  sky. 

The  various  mission  schools  are  just  recommencing 
work  after  the  New  Year’s  holidays.  These  seem  to 
be  the  only  well-attended  places  of  education  in  the 
city  at  the  present  time. 

A year  or  two  ago,  in  the  sudden  craze  for  “ Western 
learning,”  the  Government  made  supreme  efforts  to 
start  Government  schools.  Large  sums  of  money 
were  expended  in  the  erection  of  buildings,  and  such 
was  the  general  enthusiasm  that  pupils  flocked  in 
numbers  to  avail  themselves  of  the  advantages  offered, 
but,  alas  ! the  advantages  were  only  offered,  not  given. 
Properly  qualified  teachers  seemed  almost  unobtain- 
able. The  “ professors  ” engaged  did  little  more 
than  “ profess,”  and  it  turned  out  sometimes  that 
the  scholars  knew  more  than  their  teachers.  Parents 
naturally  resented  paying  school  fees  to  no  purpose, 
and  the  pupils  this  year  seem  to  have  dwindled  down 
almost,  if  not  quite,  to  vanishing  point. 


205 


China  as  I Saw  It 


We  came  in  the  mist  and  left  in  the  mist,  and 
during  our  three  days  at  Kiating  never  saw  a sign  of 
any  hill  or  mountain  of  any  description,  though 
Mount  Omei  is  less  than  thirty  miles  off  and  ten 
thousand  feet  high.  As  we  swept  down  river  on 
the  swift  current  we  passed  a trio  of  house-boats 
carrying  a party  of  Canadian  missionaries  who 
had  been  ten  weeks  toiling  up  thus  far  from 
Ichang  ! 

One  of  the  most  picturesque  bits  of  the  river  lies 
just  below  Kiating.  The  glass-green  water  flows 
under  the  shadow  of  brick-red  rocks  strangely  ridged 
and  carved  by  time  and  flood,  festooned  with  foliage 
and  wreathed  with  drooping  maidenhair.  Here  and 
there  on  rough  ledges  idols  have  been  placed,  which 
look  down  at  their  own  faces  in  the  clear  water 
below. 

After  a while  the  sun  breaks  through  the  haze. 
We  are  speeding  down  the  widening  river,  which  gives 
forth  again  as  clearly  as  a mirror  the  picture  that  has 
burst  into  view  of  the  red-tinted  hills,  splashed  from 
base  to  summit  with  shadowy  trees,  and  the  summer 
sky  above.  Away  to  the  west  of  us  range  above  range 
of  mountains,  shading  from  the  palest  grey-blue  to 
the  most  delicate  opalescent  hues  and  the  softest 
rose-tinted  violet,  give  token  of  the  splendours  of 
that  land  which  lies  between  us  and  Thibet,  and 
which  hitherto  has  been  veiled  from  sight  by  the 
vast  and  impenetrable  curtain  of  mist. 

Now  and  again  the  boat  bounces  like  an  india- 

206 


China  as  I Saw  It 

rubber  ball  as  it  plunges  down  the  boiling  eddies 
of  a rapid. 


Another  day  on  shore — this  time  at  Sui  Fu.  The 
river  of  golden  sand  (hereafter  called  the  Yangtsc) 
and  the  Min  join  forces  at  this  point.  The  city  of 
Sui  Fu,  huddled  together  on  the  tops  of  steep  banks 
of  sand,  looks  down  on  a vast  stretch  of  water, 
watched  over  by  veiled  mountains. 

An  old  acquaintance  of  Chentu,  Mr.  F.,  of  the 
China  Inland  Mission,  took  us  for  an  interesting 
ramble  through  the  streets,  and  we  passed  from  things 
gay  to  things  sorrowful.  But  the  shops  were  fascinat- 
ing. Silver-ware,  which  appears  to  be  a speciality  of 
Sui  Fu,  is  sold  by  weight,  an  ounce  for  an  ounce,  and 
a very  little  added  to  the  price  for  the  workmanship. 
We  watched  men  making  the  “ Kingfisher”  ornaments, 
covering  by  some  ingenious  method  silver  trinkets 
with  the  gorgeous  blue  tips  of  a kingfisher’s  feathers. 
When  finished,  they  have  all  the  appearance  of 
delicate  enamel-work. 

We  purchased  some  horn  boxes  and  opium  cups, 
and  artificial  flowers  like  the  girls  and  women  wear  in 
their  hair  ; and  this  being  the  first  month  of  the  year, 
all  parcels  were  wrapped  in  bright  red  paper  ! The 
copper  shops  and  the  silk  shops  (silks  sold  by  the 
skein,  another  speciality  of  Sui  Fu)  attracted  us  not 
a little,  and  we  stopped  with  interest  to  look  at  the 
famous  insect  wax  which  was  being  offered  for  sale 

207 


China  as  I Saw  It 


in  great  rounded  slabs,  like  wooden  bread  platters 
in  size  and  shape,  but  made  of  the  whitest  of 
white  wax. 

The  white  wax  insect  has  a curious  history.  Two 
hundred  miles  from  Kiating,  in  the  valley  of  Chien 
Chang,  there  are  trees,  a kind  of  privet  they  say, 
which  are  covered  with  brown  scales  full  of  these 
useful  creatures. 

Every  April  thousands  of  porters  are  sent  from 
Kiating  to  bring  as  many  scales  as  they  can  carry 
to  hang  on  the  “ white  wax  ” trees,  which  exist 
in  large  numbers  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Kiating. 
The  porters,  with  their  precious  burdens,  only 
travel  at  night,  as  the  heat  of  the  sun  might 
damage  their  freight.  After  one  hundred  days 
suspended  on  the  Kiating  trees,  the  insects  have 
excreted  the  white  wax  in  such  quantities  that 
the  branches  present  the  appearance  of  being 
covered  with  snow.  These  same  branches  are 
lopped  off,  and  the  “ snow  ” removed  and  placed  in 
iron  pots  of  boiling  water.  When  melted,  the  wax 
is  skimmed  and  sold  in  the  round  moulds  which  we 
saw  at  Sui  Fu. 

Year  after  year  the  same  performance  goes  on. 
The  creatures  come  into  being  in  the  Chien  Chang 
valley,  and  are  brought  to  Kiating  to  make  their 
wax. 

In  the  midst  of  the  shops  we  came  to  the  meeting 
of  four  cross-roads.  This  was  the  execution  ground, 
right  in  the  thickest  part  of  the  city,  and  last  year  it 

208 


PAGODA  AND  VILLAGE  ON  THE  YANGTSE 


China  as  I Saw  It 


seems  there  were  no  less  than  three  hundred  execu- 
tions on  this  very  spot.  There  is  a strange  custom 
in  some  parts  of  China  which  permits  a condemned 
criminal  to  take  possession  of  anything  that  he  pleases 
from  the  shops  along  the  road  by  which  he  is  con- 
ducted to  the  place  of  execution  ! His  movements 
are  somewhat  impeded  by  the  chain  that  is  hung 
about  his  neck  and  round  his  arms,  but  not  sufficiently 
so  to  prevent  him  from  making  use  of  his  privilege 
if  he  so  desires. 

The  “ Fu  Yamen  ” (official  residence  of  the  highest 
mandarin  of  the  city)  seemed  a fitting  sequel  to  the 
execution  ground.  VVe  mingled  with  the  eager 
crowd  of  spectators  and  looked  across  the  empty 
courtyard  dividing  us  and  them  from  the  hall  of 
judgment,  in  which  we  could  see  the  Fu  himself 
sitting  in  state  on  the  judgment  seat,  whilst  an  abject, 
shrivelled  figure  knelt  on  the  ground  in  front.  Yamen 
soldiers  in  their  bright  scarlet  uniforms  were  in 
attendance,  and  others  whom  we  could  not  see  dis- 
tinctly. 

The  case  was  a serious  one.  Fourteen  men  had 
been  convicted  of  having  put  to  death  an  entire 
family  in  order  to  rob  them  of  their  wealth.  In  the 
course  of  their  trial  they  accused  the  three  elders 
of  the  village  of  having  incited  them  to  do  the  deed. 
The  “ hsien  ” magistrate,  who  usually  tries  these  cases, 
had  passed  it  on  to  the  Fu  magistrate.  If  the  Fu 
also  failed,  it  would  be  passed  on  again  to  the 
Viceroy  of  the  province,  but  the  Fu,  on  his 

209 


p 


China  as  I Saw  It 


mettle,  was  determined  to  succeed.  The  trial 
of  the  fourteen  men  was  over.  They  were  con- 
demned to  death,  and  were  probably  half  dead 
already  from  the  tortures  to  which  they  had  been 
subjected  in  order  to  make  them  confess.  The  con- 
viction or  acquittal  of  the  elders  was  the  matter  at 
present  in  hand.  Supposing  them  to  be  innocent,  it 
would  cost  them  a fortune  to  prove  the  fact,  and 
rumour  goes  that  they  will  probably  end  by  forfeiting 
their  lives  from  confessions,  true  or  otherwise , wrung 
from  them  by  torture. 

These  sons  of  the  “ Celestial  Land  ” seem  to  live  on 
a kind  of  volcano.  We  passed  on  to  another  tragedy 
of  a different  nature,  and  entering  a building  in  orna- 
mental grounds,  which  used  to  be  a temple  and  is 
now  the  club-house  of  the  most  influential  com- 
mercial guild  of  the  city,  we  came  upon  a festive 
crowd  and  extensive  preparations  for  a grand  feast. 
Groups  of  richly  dressed  men  in  silk  and  fur  stood 
around  in  the  front  hall,  where  the  God  of  Litera- 
ture and  the  Emperor’s  Ancestral  Tablet  were 
enshrined. 

It  was  explained  to  us  that  these  gorgeous  “ butter- 
flies ” were  the  “ friends  ” of  one  of  the  principal 
bankers  of  the  town  who  had  recently  gone  bank- 
rupt ! His  ruin  had  been  brought  about  by  the 
merciless  spite  of  an  enemy  who  had  started  false 
reports  and  induced  a sudden  “ run  ” on  the 
bank,  which  the  banker  was  unable  to  meet.  His 
“ friends  ” had  undertaken  to  see  if  anything  could 


210 


China  as  I Saw  It 


be  saved  for  the  creditors,  and  the  grand  feast 
in  preparation  in  the  back  premises  must  be  paid 
for  by  the  ruined  banker  in  acknowledgment  of 
their  services  ! 

From  bankers  we  turned  our  attention  to  the 
barbers,  many  of  whom,  like  London  shoe-blacks, 
ply  their  trade  out  in  the  open.  A barber  in 
China  will  not  only  shave  his  customer,  but  give 
him  a course  of  massage  if  he  so  desires.  The  forty 
“ cash  ” for  a shave  (a  little  less  than  a penny) 
will  include  a cleansing  of  the  eyes  and  ears.  The 
latter  undergo  a kind  of  scraping,  and  the  former  are 
treated  equally  drastically,  the  eyelids  turned  up  and 
rubbed  with  a small  implement  that  has  a projection 
the  size  of  a pea  at  the  end  of  it.  Although  it  often 
causes  inflammation,  the  idea  that  this  treatment  is 
necessary  to  their  well-being  is  firmly  rooted  in  the 
mind  of  the  Chinese. 

Sui  Fu  seems  to  have  distinguished  itself  in  the 
anti-foot-binding  crusade  owing  to  the  example  of  one 
of  the  mandarins  who  worked  hard  in  the  cause, 
writing  pamphlets  on  the  subject  and  leaving  no 
stone  unturned  to  bring  about  reforms.  The  upper 
and  middle  classes  in  the  city  have,  with  very  few 
exceptions,  given  up  the  revolting  custom,  and  only 
quite  the  lowest  amongst  the  people  still  cling  to  it, 
probably  from  the  dread  that  daughters  with  un- 
bound feet  might  be  looked  upon  as  slave-girls. 


21 1 


China  as  I Saw  It 


To-day  has  been  a gala  day.  That  “ queer  thing 
in  the  sky,”  as  the  Ch’ong  King  child  called  it,  has 
been  shining  from  morn  till  eve.  We  drifted  along 
in  the  shimmering  light,  down  the  wide,  smooth 
river  between  low  hills  dotted  with  dark  trees,  and 
bright  with  the  golden  yellow  flower  of  the  “ Iu 
Tsai.” 

We  lingered  for  a few  sleepy  hours  outside  the 
picturesque  town  of  Lucheo,  watching  the  varied 
blues  and  greens  of  the  market  on  the  sandy  shore, 
where  eager  groups  of  men  in  blue  cotton  gowns  bar- 
gained for  vegetables  and  sugar-cane. 

A neighbouring  boatman  begged  me  to  take  a 
photo  of  his  boat,  and  looked  sadly  disappointed  and 
rather  incredulous  when  I said  I had  taken  it  and  had 
nothing  to  show. 


Sunday — in  the  rain  and  the  mist  again  ; but  we 
have  had  a pleasant  day,  nevertheless,  at  the  mission 
station  of  Kiang  Tsin,  and  a not  uninteresting  walk 
through  the  ancient  graveyards  on  the  hill  at  the 
back  of  the  town.  We  were  pointed  out  grave- 
stones consisting  of  a stone  slab,  with  a worn  tablet 
in  the  centre,  over  two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
old,  dating  from  the  last  dynasty,  and  more 
picturesque  than  these — terraced  graves  in  which 
the  oblong  stone  recesses  of  the  coffins  were  built 
in  rows  one  above  the  other,  and  the  whole  erection 
covered  with  earth,  but  the  earth  had  worn  away 


212 


EMBANKMENT  OF  BAMBOO  BASKETS 


China  as  I Saw  It 


with  the  years,  and  even  the  coffins  had  turned  to 
dust.  There  were  others,  the  outer  walls  of  which 
had  crumbled  away  altogether,  displaying  to  view 
little  suites  of  tiny  stone  chambers  in  which  nothing 
but  a bone  or  two  remained,  and  where  apparently 
occasional  beggars  lived  and  had  their  being.  In 
this  land  of  demon-worship  I am  told  that  there 
are  men  who  go  out  and  live  amongst  the  graves 
for  months  at  a time  in  communion  with  evil 
spirits  ! 

Kiang  Tsin  is  not  progressive  like  Sui  Fu.  A few 
years  ago  an  attempt  was  made  to  do  away  with  foot- 
binding, but  lately  it  has  come  into  fashion  again 
with  renewed  force.  As  to  opium-smoking,  the  drug 
having  grown  too  expensive  for  any  but  the  wealthy 
to  smoke,  the  poorer  folk  have  taken  to  eating  it 
instead.  When  eaten , a lesser  quantity  is  sufficient, 
but  the  effects  are  said  to  be  far  more  deleterious. 


We  hoped  to  get  to  Ch’ong  King  to-day,  but 
the  wind  was  blowing  a gale — the  men  could 
make  no  headway.  “ Tseo  puh  teh  ! ” they  said 
(“  Go  not  attain ! ”),  and  curled  up  and  went  to 
sleep. 

Later  on  in  the  day,  by  a supreme  effort  the  boat 
was  got  across  the  river  and  moored  in  a sheltered 
cove  below  a small  country  town — a town  of  crowded 
houses  on  the  top  of  a sandy  ridge  crowned  by  a 
temple  amongst  banyan  trees,  and  looking  down  on 

213 


China  as  I Saw  It 


to  the  sandy  shore  strewn  with  timber  new  and  old, 
where  boat-building  was  in  progress. 

Deborah  and  I ventured  forth  with  Lao  Tsong  in 
attendance.  As  we  mounted  the  long  flights  of  steps 
leading  to  the  streets  we  could  see  from  every  point 
of  vantage  above  our  heads  motionless  groups  of  men 
and  women  standing  as  though  petrified,  staring  like 
puzzled  cows  at  this  curious  apparition  in  their  midst 
of  two  foreigners  dropped  from  the  skies.  As  we 
advanced  we  perceived  messengers  despatched  in 
every  direction  to  announce  our  coming.  As  we 
passed  they  fell  in  behind  us,  masses  of  them.  It  was 
like  some  vast  army  tramping  through  the  streets  of 
a deserted  city,  for  every  door  was  barred,  every 
shutter  closed. 

Lao  Tsong  explained  that  they  were  still  cele- 
brating the  New  Year’s  holiday.  Yet  four  weeks  have 
gone  by  since  New  Year’s  Day  ! 

“ Familiarity  breeds  contempt.”  And  the  crowd 
answered  banteringly,  while  Lao  Tsong  tried  to  keep 
order  in  the  front  ranks.  It  seemed  best  to  beat  a 
dignified  retreat,  so,  taking  the  first  road  that  led 
riverwards,  we  went  back  to  our  boat.  Looking  up 
from  the  shore,  the  whole  length  of  the  steep  street, 
to  the  highest  point  visible  between  the  houses,  was 
one  slowly  moving  mass  of  human  beings  following 
in  our  wake.  They  gathered  in  dense  crowds  round 
the  boat.  We  shut  the  doors  at  either  end  of  the 
arched  tunnel  of  matting  which  roofed  over  our  beds 
and  boxes,  and  sat  down  on  our  palm-leaf  mattresses 

214 


China  as  I Saw  It 


in  the  dark.  A loud  knocking  called  Lao  Tsong  to 
the  rescue,  and  behold  a deputation  of  women  who 
had  come  to  “ shuah  ” (have  a chat). 

They  had  never  seen  a foreigner  before,  they  said,  and 
eagerly  the  spokeswoman  of  the  party  seized  my  hand, 
remarked  on  the  colour  of  my  skin,  felt  the  thickness 
of  my  sleeve,  and  enquired  if  my  rings  were  made  of 
gold.  Lao  Tsong  was  very  diplomatic.  He  answered 
all  questions  gently  and  politely,  and  ushered  the 
would-be  callers  back  to  the  shore,  where  a dense 
crowd  of  men,  like  baffled  hounds,  stood  and  gazed 
with  straining,  eager  eyes. 

It  was  a relief  when  the  darkness  came  and  sent 
them  back  to  their  homes.  There  had  been  “ words  ” 
between  the  boatmen  and  some  of  the  more  restive 
spectators,  and  one  feared  the  words  might  end  in 
blows  or  stone-throwing. 


Once  again  we  are  at  Ch’ong  King,  and  we  arrived 
just  in  time  to  be  present  at  a Chinese  wedding. 
You  would  have  been  amused  could  you  have  seen 
the  invitation.  A sheet  of  scarlet  paper  in  a long 
scarlet  and  gold  envelope.  We  were  told  we  should 
answer  it  either  by  sending  a present  or  taking  one 
with  us  to  the  ceremony. 

Wedding  guests  usually  bring  money,  either  cash 
or  silver ; the  latter  is  placed  on  a table  just 
inside  the  door,  and  the  former  flung  down  in  a 
corner  on  the  floor.  No  one  goes  empty-handed 

215 


China  as  I Saw  It 


to  a wedding  feast.  At  many  feasts  the  guests 
practically  pay  in  full  for  all  that  they  eat  and 
drink  ! 

Tsin  Li  Lien’s  wedding  was  held  in  the  Mission 
compound,  as  both  she  and  the  bridegroom  are 
especial  proteges  of  our  friends  here.  To  the  hum  of 
voices  and  the  sound  of  nasal  music,  the  bridal  chair, 
covered  with  embroidered  scarlet  silk,  was  carried  in 
at  the  gates,  and  in  due  course  the  curtain  in  front 
was  raised  and  the  bride,  a cowed  and  clumsy  figure 
in  magenta-pink  garments  of  wadded  silk  touched 
up  with  scarlet,  stepped  forth,  looking  dazed  and 
stupefied.  But  this  was  quite  as  it  should  be.  Unless 
a Chinese  bride  appears  absolutely  miserable  and 
dejected  she  is  thought  to  be  unmaidenly  and  ill- 
bred.  Her  head,  moreover,  was  weighed  down  by 
a species  of  high  crown  of  red  and  blue  and  tinsel, 
ending  in  a heavy  fringe,  which  dangled  forlornly  in 
front  of  her  face,  hidden  already  by  a silk  veil.  No 
wonder  she  tottered  awkwardly  into  the  church,  as 
she  was  practically  blindfolded. 

An  elderly  female  relative  acted  as  mistress  of  the 
ceremonies  and  piloted  her  along  till  she  was  finally 
placed  by  the  side  of  the  bridegroom.  He  was  a short, 
spare  man,  with  a pinched  face,  large  lips,  and  a 
massive  forehead,  and  the  appearance  of  his  wedding 
garments,  of  some  dark-hued  silk,  was  entirely  spoilt 
by  a number  of  scarlet  sashes  wound  round  his  chest 
and  back,  and  tied  in  huge,  clumsy  bows  below  the 
shoulders.  These  sashes  are  a sign  of  popularity — 

216 


BRIDAL  PAIR  AT  CHONG  KING  WEDDING 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  more  friends  you  have,  the  more  sashes  you  are 
supposed  to  wear. 

Instead  of  the  ring  ceremony  a native  custom  was 
adhered  to,  and  a small  glass  of  wine  handed  first  to 
the  bridegroom,  who  put  it  to  his  lips,  and  secondly 
to  the  elderly  relative,  who  made  a feint  of  putting 
it  to  the  bride’s  lips  also.  The  performance  was 
gone  through  again,  only  the  other  way  about,  first 
the  bride  and  then  the  bridegroom.  The  marriage 
service  over,  the  “ happy  pair  ” walked  miserably 
out  of  the  church,  and  now,  for  the  first  time  in  their 
lives  (nominally  if  not  in  reality),  they  saw  each  other 
face  to  face,  but  only  for  a minute  or  so. 

Two  more  ceremonies  had  still  to  be  gone  through. 
In  an  adjoining  room,  seated  side  by  side  at  a table 
planked  against  the  scroll-decorated  wall,  and  with 
their  backs  to  the  assembled  company,  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  sat  disconsolately  before  basins  of  syrup 
in  which  boiled  eggs  peeled  of  their  shells  floated 
uninvitingly.  The  bride’s  veil  had  been  removed. 
She  sat  with  downcast  head,  looking  at  the  eggs, 
which  she  was  evidently  not  expected  to  eat,  whilst 
the  elderly  female  relative  touched  the  bridegroom 
on  the  shoulder  and  urged  him  to  make  haste.  He 
thereupon  seized  his  chop-sticks,  and  placing  one  of 
his  eggs  in  a third  basin,  which  he  handed  to  his 
monitor,  he  hastily  swallowed  down  the  remaining 
two,  sprang  up,  saluted  the  guests,  and  departed. 
But  his  duties  were  not  yet  over. 

A few  minutes  later  the  forlorn  pair  were  standing 

217 


China  as  I Saw  It 


side  by  side  in  the  room  in  which  the  egg  rite  had 
been  performed,  with  their  backs  to  the  company  and 
their  faces  towards  the  wall.  The  master  of  the 
ceremonies  called  each  guest  by  name,  and  each  in 
turn  stepped  in,  and  standing  where  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  could  see  them,  saluted  in  Chinese  fashion. 
The  bridegroom  returned  the  salute ; the  bride 
studied  the  ground  with  eyes  cast  down  in  sorrow  and 
humility. 

Then,  after  a prolonged  interval,  we  were  invited 
to  the  feast ; the  men  sat  in  one  guest-hall,  and  all 
the  rest  of  us  in  the  other,  seated  at  round  tables 
scattered  about  the  room.  The  centre  of  each  table 
was  spread  with  Lilliputian  dishes,  fifteen  or  sixteen 
in  number,  filled  with  dainties  of  various  kinds,  such 
as  eggs  that  were  some  years  old,  pale  green  in  colour 
and  rather  nice,  fishes’  fins  and  preserved  gristle,  native 
dates  and  sliced  oranges,  and  a certain  “ hair  vegetable,” 
a great  delicacy,  said  to  be  a species  of  seaweed,  but 
akin  to  wet  black  hair  in  texture ! 

The  sweets  and  nuts  came  first  in  orthodox  Chinese 
fashion  ; then  course  followed  course,  each  dish  more 
substantial  than  the  rest.  The  meat  and  herb  dump- 
lings had  a suet  crust,  dabbed  in  the  centre  with 
bright  red,  the  wedding  colour.  The  chicken  stew 
was  palatable,  but  the  sea  slugs  which  followed  were 
so  large  and  white  and  slimy  that  my  jaws  grew  stiff 
at  the  thought  of  them. 

Half-way  through,  a basin  of  hot  water  was  handed 
round,  in  which  we  all  rinsed  our  porcelain  spoons, 

218 


China  as  I Saw  It 


preparatory  to  helping  ourselves  to  a dish  of  lotus 
seeds,  about  the  size  of  small  poppy  heads,  floating 
in  sweet  syrup.  After  the  lotus  seeds  everybody 
began  again  with  fresh  vigour.  Refuse  was  swept  off 
the  table  on  to  the  floor,  and  the  table  was  littered 
afresh  with  greasy  odds  and  ends,  basins  of  rice  were 
handed  round,  pork  and  baked  fish,  bamboo  shoots 
and  peas  in  their  pods,  and  finally  lumps  of  pork  fried 
in  sugar,  held  in  great  esteem  by  our  companions. 

I had  marvelled  once  or  twice  at  the  rapidity  with 
which  they  demolished  whole  dishes  before  I was 
half-way  through  the  contents  of  my  porcelain  spoon, 
but  I had  forgotten  the  cardboard  boxes.  They  were 
given  round  to  the  whole  party,  and  our  friends,  I 
perceived,  had  packed  theirs  so  full  that  it  was  all 
they  could  do  to  get  in  a chunk  or  two  of  the  sugared 
pork. 

Evidently  by  now  they  were  “ chih  pao  liao  ” (had 
eaten  enough),  and,  “ folding  their  tents  like  the 
Arabs,  they  silently  stole  away.”  Another  point  of 
contrast  between  their  customs  and  our  own.  Out 
here  in  China  conversation  takes  place  before  the 
meal,  not  after,  and  as  soon  as  you  have  had  as  much 
as  you  want,  and  the  dinner  is  at  an  end,  you  get  up 
and  go  ! 

. . . The  “ New  Year  ” has  left  its  traces  behind 
it.  Up  on  the  Ch’ong  King  Parade  Ground  on  a fine 
afternoon  people  are  still  holiday-making.  The  little 
girls  have  their  shuttlecocks,  fanciful  editions  of 
Western  shuttlecocks,  tipped  by  a few  brown  feathers, 

219 


China  as  I Saw  It 


which  curl  over  gracefully.  No  battledore  is  required ; 
the  small  maiden,  with  wonderful  ingenuity,  hits  the 
shuttlecock  with  the  side  of  her  little  foot — and  a 
bound,  hoof-like  foot  seems  as  serviceable  as  any 
other.  The  boys  have  kites,  and  the  adults  have  kites, 
and  fly  them  with  admirable  skill. 

The  kites  are  of  every  shape  and  form,  from  those 
as  big  as  a man  to  small  ones  made  like  butterflies. 
It  is  amusing  to  watch  a dignified  paterfamilias 
launching  his  toy  from  the  top  of  the  city  wall, 
handling  it  carefully,  until  finally  it  soars  aloft  and 
drifts  like  a great  crimson  bird  over  the  grave-strewn 
cemetery. 

A kind  of  Chinese  “Tom  Tiddler’s  Ground”  seems 
to  be  in  vogue  amongst  the  boys,  but  the  Chinese 
“ Tom  Tiddler  ” spreads  himself  out  flat  on  the  grass 
and  tries  to  trip  up  trespassers  with  his  feet. 

We,  too,  have  been  holiday-making,  picnicking  on 
the  top  of  the  hills  on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 
It  was  interesting  to  see  Ch’ong  King  from  another 
point  of  view,  the  tangled  mass  of  curved  roofs  and 
weather-beaten  walls  climbing  the  steep  hillside — 
standing  on  tip-toe,  as  it  were,  leaning  over  each  other 
to  look  down  on  to  the  swiftly  flowing  waters  of  the 
great  river.  From  afar  off,  veiled  in  golden  haze,  the 
black  mud  of  the  narrow  footways,  the  dripping  steps 
frequented  by  the  never-ceasing  trail  of  water-carriers, 
the  corners  heaped  high  with  odoriferous  garbage, 
the  dismal  squalor  of  the  badly  lit,  mud-floored 
houses  were  all  invisible. 


220 


China  as  I Saw  It 


VVe  ourselves  were  ascending  a steep  mountain 
path,  up,  and  still  further  up,  into  the  glorious  hill 
country,  where  broad  stretches  of  sunlight  crept  out 
from  shadowy  bamboo  groves  and  tracts  of  golden 
crops  (“  tsai  iu  ”),  and  terraced  water-fields  climbed 
with  us  to  the  heights  where  the  pine-woods  reigned 
supreme,  and  the  air  was  full  of  the  scent  of  pines 
and  the  silence  of  the  woods. 

With  the  magic  of  a fairy  tale  we  came  suddenly 
on  a tiny  house  with  wide  verandahs  and  doors  open 
to  receive  us.  This  was  the  C.I.M.  bungalow,  where 
for  a couple  of  months  every  year  in  the  great  heat 
of  the  summer  the  tired  workers  from  the  city  can 
flee  for  shelter,  and  judging  by  accounts,  it  makes  all 
the  difference  between  health  and  sickness  in  their 
ranks.  One  realises  a little  what  that  heat  must  be 
in  July  and  August.  This  is  only  the  16th  March, 
and  the  sun  shining  through  the  haze  is  delightfully 
warm.  We  lunched  out  in  the  open  as  though  it  had 
been  the  middle  of  summer.  Azaleas  were  coming 
into  flower,  and  scarlet  geraniums  were  out  in  blossom. 

The  heat  is  considered  more  trying  in  Ch’ong  King 
than  in  many  other  towns  in  this  part  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  city  is  built  on  a rock.  Many  of  the 
streets  are  merely  steps  in  the  rock,  worn  smooth  by 
the  feet  of  many  generations. 

We  had  many  amusing  excursions  amongst  the 
shops  of  Ch’ong  King  with  Lao  Tsong  in  attendance. 
It  was  worth  the  expenditure  of  a few  cents  to  hear 
the  “ weasel  ” bargain.  After  deciding  on  our  pur- 


231 


China  as  I Saw  It 


chases  we  would  turn  to  Lao  Tsong  and  put  the 
matter  into  his  able  hands.  With  an  air  of  in- 
difference Lao  Tsong  enquired  the  price.  The  sales- 
man, with  great  promptitude,  named  a sum.  Lao 
Tsong’s  face  expressed  untold  scorn.  His  scorn  was 
too  great  for  words.  He  merely  curled  his  nostrils 
and  showed  his  teeth  in  an  ironical  “ canine  ” smile. 
The  salesman,  with  less  assurance  of  manner,  repeated 
his  words. 

Lao  Tsong  advanced  a step  and  let  forth  a volume 
of  indignant  protest,  finishing  by  offering  a sum 
about  a quarter  as  much  as  that  asked. 

The  salesman  smiled  sweetly,  perhaps  a trifle  soapily, 
and  said,  “ Mai  puh  tao  ” (“  Sell  not  arrive  ”). 

The  purchase  in  question  was  a length  of  blue 
cotton  cloth,  in  quantity  about  eleven  feet.  Lao 
Tsong  made  an  audible  calculation  as  to  how  much 
it  should  cost  per  foot.  The  salesman  looked  dreamily 
in  the  air  and  did  a little  arithmetic  on  his  own 
account.  Smilingly  he  lowered  his  price  by  an  in- 
finitesimal amount.  Smilingly  Lao  Tsong  raised  his 
offer  correspondingly ; the  crowd  of  onlookers  pressing 
round  the  door  and  blocking  the  street  gave  advice 
which  no  one  listened  to. 

“ Mai  puh  tao,”  said  the  salesman  again,  and  packed 
up  the  things. 

Lao  Tsong  yielded  still  more. 

The  salesman  give  in  a few  cents  also. 

At  this  point  an  appropriate  jest  may  do  much 
towards  effecting  a compromise.  When  everybody 


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China  as  I Saw  It 


laughed,  Lao  Tsong  made  another  offer,  and  the 
salesman  gave  in  once  more.  They  went  over  the 
same  performance  again  and  yet  again,  when  suddenly 
the  salesman  broke  off  with — 

“ Mai  teh  ! mai  teh  ! ” (“  Buy  attain  ! ”)  in  the 
tone  of  one  who  would  say,  “ All  right  ! all  right  ! 
Why  all  this  fuss  ? ” 

The  money  was  counted  out,  the  loose  cash  given 
in  change  threaded  on  a string,  and  without  any 
parting  civilities  we  walked  out  of  the  shop,  having 
spent  over  a quarter  of  an  hour  making  a purchase 
the  price  of  which  was  something  under  a shilling. 

Possibly  all  the  time  the  proprietor  of  the  shop, 
arrayed  in  handsome  silk  garments,  was  sitting  near 
by,  smoking  his  water-pipe,  with  his  teapot  close 
beside  him,  saying  not  a word,  but  looking  on  with 
much  interest. 

Once  again  we  are  preparing  for  a boat  journey. 
A small  boat  with  an  arched  roof  of  matting  has  been 
hired  to  take  us  as  far  as  Ichang.  The  invaluable 
Lao  Tsong  will  go,  too,  and  a crew  of  eight  men,  in- 
cluding the  captain. 

Our  kind  friends  here  have  arranged  everything 
for  us.  We  feel  we  are  travelling  royally,  with  all 
worry  and  trouble  taken  off  our  shoulders,  and  even 
our  arithmetic  made  easy,  and  we  sit  by  with  admira- 
tion whilst  the  difference  is  worked  out  between 
Shanghai  dollars  and  Szechuan  dollars,*  and  Ch’ong 

* In  China  at  the  present  time  there  are  nineteen  different  kinds  of 
dollars ! 


223 


China  as  I Saw  It 


King  “ taels  ” are  changed  into  Ch’ong  King  dollars, 
and  the  silver  shoes  weighed  and  valued,  and  strings 
of  copper  “ cash,”  which  look  like  huge  brown  snakes 
made  of  copper,  are  supplied  for  emergencies.  Lao 
Tsong  carries  the  copper,  and  wears  it  slung  round 
his  neck  like  a necklace. 


We  started  from  Ch’ong  King  on  the  17th  March. 
Our  crew  seemed  to  think  we  were  in  no  hurry,  and 
the  weather  was  bad.  Three  days  after  our  start, 
however,  the  sun  burst  through  the  mist,  turning  the 
water  into  spangled  silver,  and  robing  the  mountains 
in  mauve  and  pale  amethyst  and  opalescent  blue. 
They  were  mirrored  again  in  the  river,  the  same 
colours,  only  fainter,  and  above  the  sands  and  the 
rocks  along  the  broken  shore  the  fields  were  green  with 
the  spring  crops,  and  sprinkled  with  the  golden  butter- 
cup blossoms  of  the  oil  plant. 

We  came  to  a village  grouped  around  the  base  of 
a great  rock,  which  stood  like  a giant’s  castle  high 
above  the  houses  and  the  trees.  From  base  to  summit 
a wonderful  temple  with  curved  roofs,  tier  above 
tier,  was,  as  it  were,  glued  to  the  face  of  the  cliff,  the 
rock  itself  forming  the  back  wall  of  the  temple.  And 
this,  we  remembered,  was  the  famous  “ Shih  Pao 
Miao,”  which  was  hidden  in  the  mist  on  our  journey 
up. 

We  landed  and  climbed  the  long  flights  of  steps 
to  the  gates,  unfortunately  rousing  the  sleeping 

224 


W'U-PAN  ON  THE  YANUTSE 


China  as  I Saw  It 


beggars  to  activity.  On  our  return  they  barred  the 
way,  stretching  out  leprous  hands  for  alms.  We  had 
to  pay  toll,  a copper  “ cash  ” to  each,  before  we  could 
pass.  Woe  betide  the  traveller  who  gives  more  than 
that  to  a Chinese  beggar  ! Mounting  the  eight 
flights  of  wooden  stairs,  we  found  ourselves  in  the 
main  buildings  of  the  temple,  on  the  top  of  the  rock. 

The  walls  of  the  first  great  hall  were  lined  with 
gilded  gods  under  mouldy  canopies.  The  Goddess  of 
Sight,  to  whom  all  who  suffer  with  their  eyes  go  for 
help,  held  in  her  hand  a large  painted  wooden  eye 
of  hideous  form.  We  passed  by  the  twelve  Buddhist 
hells — small  “ chambers  of  horror,”  in  which  life- 
sized  models  of  judges  presided  over  courts  where 
the  spirits  of  the  dead  (represented  also  by  wooden 
models,  but  of  dwarf  stature)  were  being  subjected 
by  horrible  avenging  demons  to  tortures  indescrib- 
able. 

At  the  end  of  the  courtyard  a smiling  priest  offered 
us  tea  and  asked  us  to  write  our  names  in  a book, 
chiefly  full  of  Chinese  signatures.  He  conducted  us 
through  to  a room  at  the  back,  in  which,  so  the  story 
goes,  in  years  gone  by  a miraculous  supply  of  rice 
was  discovered  day  by  day  in  a mysterious  hole.  The 
monks  received  the  gifts  the  gods  had  sent  with  all 
gratitude  for  a time,  but  at  length,  in  an  evil  day,  the 
feeling  of  curiosity  grew  too  strong  for  them.  They 
set  to  work  to  discover  the  secret  of  the  mystery,  and 
lo  ! the  supply  of  rice  stopped  from  that  day  forth 
for  evermore  ! 


Q 


225 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Our  priest  told  the  tale  in  all  good  faith,  and  we 
looked  with  interest  at  the  hole  in  the  floor.  It  was 
about  the  size  of  a bread  platter  in  diameter,  and 
one  could  not  tell  how  deep.  We  wondered  what  its 
original  purpose  could  have  been.  It  was  much 
smaller,  so  the  priest  told  us,  long  ago  ! 

Sunday  we  spent  at  Wanhsien.  It  was  a sunny  day 
again  for  a wonder,  and  the  tangled  streets  climbing 
the  hillside  seemed  more  crowded  than  ever,  the 
houses  pressing  forward  over  the  narrow  alley-ways. 
Flapping  scrolls,  banners,  and  lanterns  shut  out  all 
the  sunlight  and  most  of  the  sky.  The  beggars, 
covered  in  sores  and  horribly  emaciated,  ragged  and 
filthily  dirty,  hovered  round  like  wounded  birds  of 
prey. 

After  the  halt  at  Wanhsien  came  our  spin  down  the 
rapids.  We  looked  forward  to  them  with  impatience, 
held  our  breath  with  suspense  as  we  plunged  into  the 
boiling  cauldron,  gasped  as  we  slipped  down  with  the 
sliding  torrent,  and  thrilled  with  excitement  as  we 
bounded  safely  through  the  foam  into  smooth  water. 
The  gorges,  though  grand  and  wild  and  rather  awful, 
had  lost  the  beauty  of  the  autumn  foliage  and  were 
weeping  in  the  rain.  The  weather  had  turned  dismal 
again,  and  the  only  exciting  moments  of  the  day 
were  spent  in  shooting  the  rapids. 

At  the  famous  Chin  Tan,  however,  Lao  Tsong  ex- 
plained lugubriously  that  we  should  get  drenched 
through  if  we  stayed  on  the  boat.  He  proceeded  to 
cover  boxes  and  beds  with  oil  sheeting,  and  the  crew 

226 


China  as  I Saw  It 


shook  their  heads  when  asked  if  there  were  danger 
ahead.  Opinions  seemed  unanimous  that  we  should 
go  on  shore  and  leave  the  boat  and  the  crew  to  face 
the  rapid  alone. 

From  our  vantage  point  on  the  top  we  watched  the 
tiny  boat  (it  looked  so  small  amongst  the  tumbling 
waves)  and  saw  it  dive  into  the  torrent.  Three  times 
it  dipped  its  “ head  ” under  the  water  like  a bird, 
rose  again  with  a bound,  and  finally  shot  like  an  arrow 
from  the  boiling  foam  and  was  swept  on  by  the 
current. 

We  walked  for  hours  before  we  came  up  with  it 
again.  Our  boatmen  were  wreathed  in  smiles,  the 
“ ta  shui  ” (rough  water)  had  not  been  half  as  bad 
as  they  expected  ; they  had  got  a little  wet,  that  was 
all,  and  we  might  just  as  well  have  stayed  on  board. 

On  Thursday  we  found  ourselves  back  at  Ichang,  in 
a changed  world,  and  here  we  are  still  travelling  on 
the  Yangtse,  still  journeying  by  boat ; but  the  boat 
is  an  English  steamer  smelling  of  Aspinall’s  enamel, 
and  the  river  is  shorn  of  its  gorges  and  its  amethyst 
mountains,  and  is  melting  away  more  and  more 
into  mud.  We  have  come  back  to  the  study  in 
sepia ! 

On  board  there  are  two  young  men  whom  I first 
mistook  for  Japanese.  They  turned  out  to  be  Chinese 
engineers,  who  are  going  to  Hankow,  or  rather  Han- 
yang, to  buy  rails  for  the  proposed  line  to  Szechuan. 
We  have  heard  a good  deal  about  this  railway  ; it  is 
by  far  the  most  expensive  thing  of  the  kind  contem- 

227 


China  as  I Saw  It 


plated  in  China,  and  at  present  hangs  fire  for  want 
of  funds.  Our  young  engineers  very  naturally  took 
an  optimistic  view  of  its  future,  but  I believe  there 
is  only  money  enough  at  present  to  construct  a few 
hundred  yards. 


Yours  ever, 

V. 


228 


Gankin, 

March , 1908. 

One  more  glimpse  of  a Chinese  town  before  we 
leave  the  Yangtse,  and  though  Gankin  is  many 
hundreds  of  miles  nearer  the  coast  than  Ichang,  it 
seemed  to  me,  as  we  landed  in  the  darkness  of  the  night 
into  a howling  crowd  of  excited  Chinese  on  a river- 
side wharf,  that  we  had  leapt  back  with  a bound  into 
the  far  interior.  We  had  asked  to  be  allowed  to  stay 
at  the  China  Inland  Mission  Station,  but  it  was  some 
time  before  our  repeated  requests  for  sedan-chairs 
took  effect,  the  trouble  being  that  the  city  gates 
would  be  closed  before  the  chair-bearers  could  get 
back  again  to  their  houses.  At  last  some  were  forth- 
coming, and  we  were  borne  through  the  riverside 
suburb  into  a deserted  city  of  black  alley-ways  and 
windowless  buildings,  where  “ the  very  houses  seemed 
asleep.” 

The  police  on  the  wharf  looked  on  us  with  a good 
deal  of  suspicion.  It  was  explained  afterwards  that 
the  place  was  full  of  revolutionaries,  and  ever  since 
the  assassination  of  the  Governor  of  the  province 
less  than  a year  ago  by  one  of  their  number  (a  Gankin 
student),  the  authorities  had  been  especially  suspicious 
of  new  arrivals. 


229 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Those  had  been  stirring  times  in  the  city.  On  the 
day  of  his  assassination  the  Governor  was  attending 
some  function  at  a Government  school.  The  student 
gave  himself  up,  and  made  no  secret  of  his  intention. 
He  was  in  due  course  beheaded,  and  his  heart  taken 
out  and  offered  as  a sacrifice  to  the  dead  body  of  his 
victim.  According  to  law  the  heart  should  have  been 
extracted  before  the  execution,  instead  of  after,  and 
the  man  held  responsible  for  this  omission  was  severely 
punished  ! An  insurrection  in  the  town  was  quelled 
with  some  difficulty.  The  shots  whizzed  over  the 
Mission  compound  where  we  are  now  staying,  and 
for  an  hour  or  two  it  was  hard  to  tell  which  way 
things  would  go. 

We  were  at  Gankin  for  the  Ching  Ming  Festival 
(Festival  of  the  Dead),  the  sixth  of  the  third  moon, 
and  walking  along  the  top  of  the  city  wall  (usually 
the  cleanest  and  most  odourless  place  in  the  city),  we 
kept  coming  across  graves  and  their  worshippers. 
It  was  somewhat  surprising  to  find  graves  at  all  on  the 
inner  side  of  the  wall.  Possibly  in  some  cases  they  were 
temporary  ones  and  the  bodies  would  be  removed  at 
a later  date.  Strewn  here  and  there  were  coffins  await- 
ing interment,  which  had  been  indefinitely  postponed 
either  for  want  of  money  or  for  family  reasons. 

At  the  foot  of  the  grass-grown  wall  a man,  busy 
lighting  a number  of  tiny  fires  of  incense  sticks  and 
paper  money,  told  us  that  his  parents  and  ancestors 
were  all  buried  there  under  the  ground,  though  there 
was  no  mark  to  indicate  the  spot. 

230 


A MANDARIN  WITH  HIS  ATTENDANTS 


China  as  I Saw  It 


A melancholy  wailing  continuing  ceaselessly  at- 
tracted our  attention  to  a woman  who  was  rocking 
backwards  and  forwards  on  her  knees  over  newly 
turned  sods. 

It  is  at  this  Ching  Ming  Festival  that  masses  are 
sung,  and  food  brought  to  the  spirits  of  the  dead  to 
stave  off  the  pangs  of  hunger  through  the  coming 
year.  In  honour  of  the  occasion  an  immense  pro- 
cession passed  through  the  streets.  From  our  windows 
we  could  see  the  scarlet  umbrellas,  shaped  like  gigantic 
lampshades,  and  banners  floating  in  the  breeze.  In 
gorgeous  red  sedan-chairs  idols  sat  in  state.  The  city 
god  was  being  escorted  out  to  the  regions  beyond 
the  city  walls,  so  that  “ he  ” might  see  that  all  was 
in  order  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  his 
domain  ! In  the  procession  musicians  many  and  vari- 
ous gave  forth  the  sounds  of  a score  of  bagpipes  and 
half  a score  of  drums,  playing  out  of  tune. 

The  comic  element  was  much  in  evidence.  A 
giant,  as  primitive  in  its  make-up  as  the  lion  in  the 
Midsummer  Night’s  Dream , was  represented  by  frame- 
work supported  on  a man’s  shoulders,  clothed  in  such 
a manner  as  to  give  the  idea  of  the  head  and  body  of 
a giant  on  the  legs  of  a man  ; and  in  a gap  made  in 
the  clothing  the  face  of  the  man  peered  out,  de- 
stroying all  illusions. 

We  went  out  to  see  dear  H.’s  grave  in  the  little 
“ foreign  ” cemetery,  five  “ li  ” beyond  the  city  walls. 
We  passed  from  the  crowded  street  into^the  Great 
Peking  Road,  a rough  path  of  broken  flagstones,  five 


China  as  I Saw  It 


feet  wide,  between  desolate  vegetable  patches.  Ahead 
of  us  the  Dragon  Mountain  stood  out  in  a bold  mass 
against  the  sky — blue  and  mysterious,  beyond  the 
fields  of  golden  “ oil  plant  ” and  the  vast,  billowy 
stretches  of  grass-grown  graves. 

A stone  wall  has  recently  been  built  around  the 
“ foreign  ” cemetery,  causing  great  consternation 
amongst  the  officials,  who  tried  to  wreak  their  wrath 
on  the  native  Christian  who  had  “ dared  ” to  sell  land 
to  the  “foreigner.”  Amongst  the  handful  of  graves 
in  this  lonely  spot  there  is  one  of  an  American  sailor 
from  a gunboat.  His  “ foreign  ” coffin  was  similar 
to  the  cases  in  which  the  Chinese  store  firearms. 
They  were  persuaded  that  the  “ foreigners”  were  seiz- 
ing this  opportunity  of  smuggling  firearms  into  the 
place,  and  storing  them  away  in  the  walled-in  ceme- 
tery under  the  pretence  of  burying  an  American 
sailor.  In  course  of  time,  according  to  American 
custom,  it  is  possible  that  the  coffin  may  be  removed 
to  its  “ native  ” land.  It  is  sincerely  hoped  that  in 
this  case  the  grave  will  be  allowed  to  remain  undis- 
turbed, as  a move  of  that  kind  would  only  strengthen 
suspicions  in  the  mind  of  the  Chinese  ; and  in  these 
days  of  distrust  and  unrest  the  least  thing  may  create 
a disturbance. 

In  Gankin  one  finds  a curious  mixture  of  ignorant 
superstition  and  advanced  thought.  We  were  pointed 
out  the  great  buildings  of  a mint,  furnished  with 
machinery  for  generating  electricity.  Already  there 
is  electric  light  in  the  Yamens,  and  the  streets  are  to 

232 


China  as  I Saw  It 


follow  suit  before  long.  The  police  force,  in  semi- 
Western  uniforms  and  German  military  caps,  looks 
distinctly  smart  and  efficient.  Many  of  the  citizens, 
they  say,  have  given  up  idolatry,  but  have  drifted 
away  from  faith  of  every  kind. 

There  are  three  to  four  thousand  Mahommedans 
in  the  city,  especially  noticeable  by  the  traveller  for 
gastronomical  reasons.  In  Chinese  cities  where  there 
are  no  Mahommedans  pork  is  the  only  meat  to  be  got, 
but  in  Gankin  both  beef  and  pork  are  purchasable. 

The  Americans  have  been  making  great  efforts  to  gain 
an  influence  for  good  over  this  anti-“  foreign  ” city. 
They  have  opened  a school  for  boys,  and  apparently 
do  not  lack  for  pupils,  and  have  erected  a splendid  hos- 
pital, furnished  with  all  the  latest  improvements.  The 
Chinese,  from  the  officials  downwards,  came  in  eager 
crowds  to  celebrate  the  opening  of  this  palatial  build- 
ing, but  have  been  slow  at  present  in  taking  advantage 
of  the  benefits  offered.  The  patients  just  now  are 
drawn  only  from  the  lowest  classes,  who  are  either 
treated  gratis  or  their  expenses  defrayed  by  friends. 

We  had  intended  going  up  the  celebrated  Gankin 
Pagoda,  but  the  rain  came  down  in  sheets — morning, 
noon,  and  night — deluging  the  city.  It  leaked  in 
through  the  roof  of  our  friends’  house  and  trickled 
down  the  walls. 

We  had  to  catch  the  steamer  that  night  for  Shang- 
hai, and  as  Gankin  is  not  an  open  port,  none  but  the 
Chinese  merchant  steamers  come  alongside  the  wharf. 
To  get  on  to  the  others  one  must  trust  oneself  to 

233 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  mercies  of  a small  boat,  and  board  the  steamer  as 
it  slackens  speed,  but  does  not  stop,  out  in  the  open 
river.  Our  sedan-chairs  were  borne  through  the 
darkness  to  the  water-side  between  ten  o’clock  and 
midnight,  our  bearers  apparently  wading  through 
deep  floods  by  the  sound  of  the  splashing  and  the 
gurgling  water.  Finally  we  were  bumped  down  in  a 
melancholy  tobacconist’s  shop  with  a herd  of  fellow- 
passengers  to  await  the  coming  of  the  steamer. 

For  half  an  hour  or  more  we  sat  waiting,  shivering 
with  cold,  watching  the  sleepy  shop-assistants  making 
up  tiny  parcels  of  tobacco  by  the  dim  light  of  native 
lamps.  Then  followed  one  of  the  most  uncomfortable 
moments  of  our  journeyings  in  China.  Moving  lights 
in  the  centre  of  the  river  announced  the  steamer. 
Fumbling  down  a slimy  slope  of  mud  in  the  darkness, 
and  across  a slippery  plank,  we  stepped  into  a wide, 
shallow  boat,  already  tightly  packed  with  Chinese 
and  their  bundles.  There  was  no  room  to  sit,  there 
was  hardly  room  to  breathe.  Wedged  in  by  our 
fellow-passengers,  we  stood  swaying  backwards  and 
forwards  in  one  homogeneous  mass  as  the  boat 
plunged  and  rocked  through  the  storm-tossed  river. 
The  rain  was  sweeping  down  in  torrents,  and,  blown 
by  the  wind,  it  seemed  as  though  we  must  inevitably 
have  been  swamped  by  the  moving  steamer,  which 
lay  ahead  of  us  like  an  illuminated  island  swaying  in 
the  shadowy  waters.  Just  as  the  yelling  of  the  boat- 
men rose  to  its  highest  pitch,  we  made  a dive  for  the 
side  of  the  vessel  and  missed  the  right  point ; but 

234 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  sailors  on  board  threw  out  ropes  and  the  situation 
was  saved.  Helping  hands  hauled  us  up  on  to  a deck, 
and  a ship’s  officer  announced  that  on  such  a bad  night 
they  had  hardly  expected  any  Chinese  passengers, 
far  less  any  foreign  ones ; and  he  inveighed  against 
the  foolhardy  way  in  which  these  small  boats,  crowded 
far  beyond  their  capacity,  are  sent  out  in  all  weathers 
to  sink  or  swim. 

And  now  we  are  nearing  Shanghai — the  outside 
country,  as  it  is  called  by  some  of  the  inland  people — 
and  are  leaving  the  “ Flowery  Land  ” for  the  “ East 
Sea  Kingdom.”  * How  delightful  it  would  be  if 
you  could  join  us  there.  You  say  there  is  just  a 
chance. 

( Interval  of  several  months.) 

* Japan. 


235 


Chefoo. 


How  wise  of  you  to  leave  Japan  before  the 
rainy  season.  We  waited  a whole  fortnight  longer, 
and  the  deluge  which  commenced  on  Monday  lasted 
for  fourteen  days,  and  was  still  going  on  with  re- 
doubled rigour  when  we  came  away. 

We  should  have  returned  to  China  via  Korea ; 
I wanted  to  badly,  but  the  boat  I had  in  my  mind 
Deborah  refused  to  catch,  because — “ the  washing 
had  not  come  home.” 

I suppose  there  were  other  reasons  as  well. 

Anyway,  here  we  are  back  in  China. 

Shanghai  in  July  was  in  a state  of  loathsome  per- 
spiration. We  arrived  late  in  the  evening,  and  as  we 
drove  down  the  dimly  lit  streets,  the  open-fronted 
shops  seemed  literally  oozing  with  a fleshy  mass  of 
bare-backed  human  beings  streaming  with  heat. 
Some  were  resting  after  the  day’s  work,  others  were 
being  barbered,  others  were  smoking,  and  the  crowd 
swelled  visibly.  The  faint,  sickly  smell  of  opium 
mingled  with  the  musty  odour  of  mouse-traps  and 
black-beetles,  which  comes,  they  say,  from  the  oil 
used  in  cooking,  and  is  never  wholly  absent  from  a 
Chinese  street. 

The  next  day  we  perceived  a great  change  to  have 

236 


China  as  I Saw  It 


come  over  the  town.  The  seething  mass  of  coolies, 
the  burden-bearers,  the  wheelbarrows,  the  rickshaws, 
all  edged  to  one  side  or  the  other,  whilst  whizzing 
down  the  middle  of  the  road  came  the  “ lightning 
carriage.”  When  these  electric  cars  were  first  started 
there  were  many  accidents.  It  is  related  that  rickshaw 
coolies,  hearing  the  clanging  of  the  bell,  fled  precipi- 
tately, leaving  their  “ fares  ” on  the  rails  to  be  run 
over. 

We  came  on  to  Chefoo  to  be  cool,  but  the  residents 
say  they  have  never  known  such  heat  for  twenty 
years.  Everybody,  from  the  sewing-woman  who  sits 
sewing  for  us  on  the  balcony  to  the  bishop  in  the 
little  English  church,  carries  a fan.  It  seems  that  in 
this  country  of  forms  and  ceremonies  even  the  fan 
denotes  the  social  standing  of  its  owner.  There  is 
the  scholar’s  fan,  on  which  learned  sayings  are  in- 
scribed in  gilded  characters,  and  the  tradesman’s  fan — 
a light,  willowy  construction  of  thin  black  silk,  with 
slender  slats  of  an  especially  fine  quality  of  bamboo, 
and  the  palm-leaf  fan  of  the  coolie  and  the  sewing- 
woman.  A lady,  as  a rule,  will  have  a silken  fan — 
either  painted  or  embroidered,  of  the  screen-like 
shape  of  the  dried  palm-leaf.  A mandarin  suits  his 
to  his  costume,  and  his  costume  to  the  time  of  year. 
At  a given  date,  no  matter  what  the  weather  may  be 
like,  the  wadded  winter  garments  are  exchanged  for 
summer  silk  and  gauze.  It  is  altogether  unseemly  to 
wear  a winter  silk  (of  heavy  make)  in  the  summer,  or 
vice  versa.  The  Chinese  maintain  that  we  foreigners 

237 


China  as  I Saw  It 


fan  ourselves  too  quickly ; they  think  they  get 
much  better  results  by  the  opposite  method  of 
procedure. 

The  “ queue  ” is,  apparently,  as  significant  as  the  fan. 
A scholar,  for  instance,  would  never  lower  himself  in 
the  eyes  of  the  public  by  displaying  a thick  head  of 
hair.  A thin  and  scraggy  pig-tail  is  one  of  the  recog- 
nised symbols  of  high  thinking  and  low  living.  A man 
of  wealth  and  leisure,  on  the  contrary,  must  be  plump 
and  sleek,  with  a thick,  well-groomed  plait.  The 
Yamen  runners  consider  a long  fat  “ queue  ” as  part 
of  their  outfit.  It  betokens  strength  and  valour,  com- 
bined with  high  living  and  low  thinking.  How  the 
naturally  lean  man  acquires  his  adipose  tissue,  or  a 
rotund  scholar  gets  rid  of  it,  history  does  not  relate. 
The  enlargement  of  the  pig-tail  is  an  easy  matter 
enough,  as  artificial  hair  is  for  sale  in  every  town,  and 
can  be  woven  in  so  dexterously  that  it  is  not  easy  to 
detect  its  presence.  Some  men — chiefly  young  men — 
allow  the  hair  at  the  nape  of  the  neck  to  grow  out  in 
a long  straight  fringe  ; at  the  same  time  the  “ queue  ” 
is  plaited  loosely  and  untidily.  The  fashion  is  extra- 
ordinarily unbecoming,  and  means,  moreover,  that 
the  man  is  something  of  a dandy  and  belongs  to  a 
“ fast  ” set. 

It  is  the  middle  of  August,  and  according  to  the 
Chinese  calendar  the  autumn  has  begun,  but  the 
heat  is  greater  than  ever.  The  thermometer  registers 
eighty-eight  in  the  early  morning,  and  goes  up  to 
ninety-six  or  so  in  the  coolest  places  one  can  find. 

238 


China  as  I Saw  It 


The  scissor  - grinders  * are  enjoying  themselves 
thoroughly.  In  the  grove  of  willows  below  tire  house 
the  shrill  screech  of  the  myriads  in  the  branches  is 
like  the  screech  of  a million  slate-pencils  on  a million 
slates.  One  can  hardly  hear  one’s  own  voice.  The 
ground  under  the  trees  is  strewn  with  the  crackly, 
transparent  brown  shells  from  which  the  songsters 
have  recently  withdrawn  their  presence.  Their 
musical  powers  do  not  thoroughly  develop  until  they 
have  discarded  this  suit  of  armour.  The  Chinese 
keep  scissor-grinders  as  “ domestic  pets.”  They  house 
them  in  little  boxes,  and  pit  them  against  each  other 
in  fighting  matches.  It  is  even  said  that  in  some  parts 
of  the  country  scissor-grinders  are  used  as  watch-dogs 
to  guard  the  house  from  thieves,  which  may  account, 
perhaps,  for  the  attention  lavished  on  them.  They 
give  the  signal  of  an  approaching  footstep  by  a 
sudden,  impressive  silence,  instead  of  an  increase  of 
sound. 

I have  been  amusing  myself  lately  learning  to 
write  “ character.”  My  gaunt,  hungry-looking  teacher, 
with  nails  more  than  half  an  inch  long,  has  been 
initiating  me  into  some  of  the  mysteries  of  Chinese 
letter-writing.  The  chief  aim  of  a friendly  corre- 
spondent seems  to  be  to  string  together  a number  of 
high-sounding  words  which,  under  the  circumstances, 
mean  practically  nothing,  and  above  all,  to  avoid 
giving  any  personal  news.  If,  however,  there  is  some 
little  matter  which  cannot  be  ignored,  he  must 

* Cicadas. 

239 


China  as  I Saw  It 


mention  it  as  briefly  as  possible,  hiding  the  dry 
bones  of  fact  in  empty  complimentary  phrases. 
A letter  written  in  the  easy  natural  style  approved  of 
in  Western  lands,  and  containing  interesting  informa- 
tion, would  not  only  fail  to  give  pleasure,  but  might 
very  likely  be  a cause  of  offence,  and  would  certainly 
be  looked  upon  as  a mark  of  ignorance  on  the  part  of 
the  writer. 

I occasionally  receive  a letter  from  my  “ sun  bride  ” 
at  Teng  Cheo  Fu.  Her  letters  are  written  according 
to  the  approved  pattern,  and  the  one  of  six  months 
ago  and  that  of  yesterday  are  practically  interchange- 
able. They  begin  in  this  way:  “Gracious  Teacher, 
Great  One,  Unlimited  Joy,  Perfect  Peace,”  and  at 
this  point,  and  at  intervals  throughout  the  letter,  two 
small  characters  are  inserted  at  the  side,  which  stand 
for  “ Female  Disciple.”  She  goes  on  to  say  that 
“ Gracious  Teacher  ” has  “ wasted  her  heart,”  that 
she — the  disciple — constantly  thinks  of  her,  that  at 
the  school  she  has  peace  and  hopes  for  wisdom  to 
study,  and  after  launching  forth  into  good  wishes  on 
my  behalf,  signs  her  name  of  “ Tiao  long  Hua,” 
and  indicates  that,  folding  her  hands  humbly  inside 
her  sleeves,  she  respectfully  does  me  homage.  I 
quake  to  think  how  barbarous  and  uncouth  my 
reply  will  sound  to  her,  and  try  to  soften  my  bald 
phrases  by  adding  a little  Chinese  polish  culled  from 
my  gaunt  teacher,  who  would  gladly  have  written 
the  letter  on  his  own  account.  Annoyed  with  me  for 
declining  his  services,  he  ceased  to  take  any  interest 

240 


China  as  1 Saw  It 


in  the  matter,  and  sharpened  his  long  nails  on  the 
wall  and  fanned  himself. 

“ Virtuous  Female  Disciple,”  I said,  “ Know  fully,” 
and  ended  up  with  “ purposely  this,”  and  “ no  other 
words  to  speak,”  “ May  you  have  peace.” 

They  say  it  takes  many  years  to  acquire  a proficiency 
in  Chinese  caligraphy.  The  brush  which  forms  the 
pen  requires  very  delicate  handling,  and  has  to  be 
held  straight  upright  and  worked  from  the  elbow. 
In  forming  the  characters  it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
first  stroke  (or  that  which  Westerners  would  naturally 
make  the  first)  came  last,  and  vice  versa.  I argued 
that  the  final  result  was  the  same,  but  the  teacher 
only  shook  his  head  and  would  allow  no  devia- 
tion from  custom.  I filled  his  heart  with  delight 
finally  by  asking  him  to  address  the  envelope. 
It  took  him  some  time  to  do  this,  at  which  you 
will  hardly  be  surprised  when  you  realise  its  com- 
plications. On  the  front  side  these  words  were 
inscribed  : — 

“ Lo  S'f  Niang  ” (my  Chinese  name)  “ sends  a 
letter.”  (One  would  have  thought  that  wholly 
superfluous.) 

“ For  female  pupil  long  Hua  to  receive  and  tear 
o-pen  ! ” 

“ At  Wei  St  Niang  School  for  Girls.” 

“ Sent  to  reach  Teng  Cheo  Fu  inside  the  city 
walls  to  an  outside  Kingdom  place.” 

On  the  back  side  the  following  enigmatical  state- 
ments were  made  : — 


R 


241 


China  as  I Saw  It 


“ The  Ninth  Branch.” 

“ The  Fifth  Heavenly  Stem  ” ; and  further  : — 

“ The  Seventh  moon,  twenty-third  day.” 

“ From  the  East  Hill  at  Chefoo.” 

“ Sealed  ! ” 

In  China,  as  you  know,  time  is  divided  into  cycles 
of  sixty  years.  The  ten  stems  and  the  twelve  branches 
are  gone  through  over  and  over  again  before  the 
sixty  years  are  up — the  former  six  times  and  the  latter 
five.  So  the  Ninth  Branch  and  the  Sixth  Heavenly 
Stem  on  the  envelope  simply  means  the  thirty-fifth 
year  of  the  present  cycle.  Besides  these  ways  of 
calculating  time,  there  are  twelve  “ symbolical  ” 
animals  presiding  over  the  years  and  days,  and  cor- 
responding with  the  twelve  branches.  By  telling 
a Chinese  the  animal  which  ruled  over  the  year  of 
your  birth,  after  a moment’s  reflection  he  will  tell 
you  your  age  at  the  present  time. 

My  learned  B.A.,  with  his  long  nails,  reminds  me 
of  another  Peking  graduate  whose  home  we  visited 
the  other  day.  His  business  in  life  is,  however,  not 
educational,  but  agricultural.  In  China  society  is 
roughly  divided  into  four  classes — scholars,  farmers, 
artisans,  and  last  and  least,  tradesmen.  To  quote  the 
“ Sacred  Edict  ” : — 

“ Agriculturists,  the  world  over,  are  styled  the 
source  of  power,  whilst  tradesmen  are  spoken  of  as 
accessories.” 

Wei  Sien  Seng,  our  new  acquaintance,  seemed  a 
person  of  no  little  importance.  We  were  conducted 

242 


China  as  I Saw  It 


through  the  vineyards  surrounding  his  house,  gather- 
ing the  grapes,  green,  golden,  and  purple,  on  our 
way.  The  guest-room  into  which  we  were  shown  was 
arranged  in  semi-foreign,  semi-Chinese  style,  of  all 
styles  the  most  unattractive,  but  from  the  point  of 
view  of  a modern  Chinese  extremely  “ ti-mien  ” 
(smart).  A harmonium  and  a bicycle  formed  the 
most  conspicuous  articles  of  “ furniture.”  Chairs 
were  placed  around  a table  laden  with  fruit  and  cakes, 
with  common  Anglo-Japanese  cups  and  saucers, 
instead  of  the  usual  dainty  Chinese  porcelain,  and  a 
cupboard  with  glass  doors  was  evidently  a proud 
possession.  Its  shelves  were  filled  from  end  to  end 
with  cheap  Brummagem  ornaments,  foreign  photo- 
graphs in  cardboard  frames,  and  other  rubbish. 
It  would  be  interesting  to  know  whether  an  educated 
Chinese  would  look  at  the  heterogeneous  collection 
of  Chinese  and  Japanese  curios  in  an  ordinary  English 
drawing-room  with  the  same  feelings  which  arose  in 
our  minds  at  this  weird  jumble  of  worthless  English 
knick-knacks  in  this  Chinese  interior. 

Wei  Sien  Seng’s  wife,  whom  we  had  not  the  pleasure 
of  seeing,  is  a very  exceptional  woman.  With  her  own 
money  she  has  built  a small  school,  and  furnished  it 
with  all  necessaries,  at  one  end  of  the  gardens,  and  in 
it  she  teaches  gratis  for  a few  hours  daily  a dozen  or 
so  small  children  from  neighbouring  cottages,  who 
otherwise  would  get  no  education  at  all. 

The  cry  for  education  is  being  answered  in  one  way 
or  another  all  over  China.  Here  and  there  the  answer 


243 


China  as  I Saw  It 


takes  an  unexpected  form.  A few  days  ago  we  went 
to  see  a very  different  type  of  establishment  to  Wei  S'l 
Niang’s  humble  little  “ Dame  School,”  namely, 
the  Naval  College,  founded  and  partly  built  by  Yuen 
Shi  Kai,  one  of  the  leading  statesmen  of  the  day. 
Up  on  the  hills,  behind  the  foreign  settlement,  we 
had  long  noticed  a cluster  of  native  buildings  one 
story  high,  all  fresh  paint  and  plaster,  bright,  white, 
and  shining,  surrounded  by  grass  land  and  enclosed 
in  white  walls.  Last  year  it  was  still  unfinished,  this 
year  it  is  full  of  naval  cadets,  and  visitors  can  get 
permission  to  go  over  it.  We  arrived  to  find  our- 
selves expected.  Two  smart  young  Chinese  naval 
officers,  in  trim  white  duck  uniforms,  which  showed  up 
to  full  advantage  their  long  black  “ queues,”  bowed 
us  into  the  guest-hall — a long  room  furnished  in  the 
style  of  a second-rate  English  boarding-house.  The 
table  in  the  centre  was  covered  by  a garish  cloth, 
and  surrounded  by  chairs  and  Japanese  black  and 
gold  screens.  Tea  was  brought  in  in  Chinese  style, 
and  lemonade  and  mineral  water  served  in  tumblers 
in  foreign  style.  Meanwhile  the  conversation,  held 
in  English,  was  a little  strained.  Our  hosts  put  pointed 
questions  in  the  Chinese  fashion,  asked  where  we  had 
come  from  and  where  we  were  going  to,  but  knew 
enough  of  English  etiquette,  apparently,  not  to 
enquire  our  ages  or  the  number  of  our  sons.  Finally 
we  were  taken  over  the  college.  The  hundred  and 
sixty  pupils  at  present  in  residence  come  from  all 
parts  of  China,  from  official  and  other  classes  of 

244 


China  as  I Saw  It 


society,  and  are  obliged  to  stay  for  four  years,  after 
which  time  they  will  be  sent  to  sea  as  embryo  officers 
of  the  Chinese  navy.  In  order  to  obtain  admission 
they  must  pass  a certain  examination  and  get  a 
nomination  from  a Chinese  nobleman — but — and 
at  this  point  we  are  no  longer  surprised  that  the 
college,  which  has  been  only  open  a very  few  months, 
is  already  supplied  with  pupils  — all  expenses  of 
education,  etc.,  are  defrayed  by  the  Government ! 

At  present  the  Chinese  navy  is  practically  non- 
existent, never  having  made  good  its  losses  in  the 
Chino-Japanese  War  of  1895.  True,  there  are  some 
gunboats ; one  with  a yellow  dragon  and  a big  eye 
painted  on  the  bows  was  lying  in  Chefoo  Bay  at 
the  beginning  of  the  month.  Still,  the  hundred 
and  sixty  naval  cadets  will  not  be  ready  for  five 
years  or  so,  and  much  may  be  done  in  that  time,  if, 
indeed,  the  Naval  College  lives  up  to  its  ideals. 
There  is  plenty  of  paint  and  plenty  of  whitewash, 
but  something  light  and  airy  and  unsubstantial 
about  the  make  of  the  buildings  which  bodes  ill  for 
the  future.  We  looked  in  through  various  glass 
doors  at  spick  and  span  class-rooms,  where  Chinese 
boys  in  semi-foreign  suits  of  white  duck  were  sitting 
at  foreign  desks  on  foreign  forms,  learning  from 
foreign  books.  In  one  room  they  were  studying 
English,  in  another  algebra.  There  were  courts 
behind  courts  surrounded  by  one-storied  buildings, 
and  at  the  end  of  a long  passage  a shrine  and  burning 
incense,  a precautionary  measure,  doubtless  to  counter- 

245 


China  as  I Saw  It 


act  the  evil  influence  of  the  foreign  visitors.  And 
yet,  forsooth,  the  very  object  of  the  place  is  to  teach 
our  contemptible  foreign  language  and  the  science 
of  the  West,  and  the  very  furnishing  of  the  rooms 
showed  in  every  detail  Western  influence,  more 
especially,  perhaps,  than  anything  else  the  bath- 
rooms, twenty  or  more,  with  hot  and  cold  water 
laid  on.  One  isolated  two-storied  building  attracted 
our  attention. 

“ Ah,  that,”  they  said,  “ is  for  the  foreign  pro- 
fessors.” 

“ Who  are  the  foreign  professors  ? ” we  asked  with 
interest. 

But  they  shook  their  heads.  They  had  none  at  all 
as  yet,  but  were  hoping  to  get  some  later  on ! 

“ Man,  man,  tih,”  later  on ! That  is  the  answer 
to  many  an  otherwise  unanswered  question  in  this 
land  of  the  Celestials. 

At  present  the  only  foreigner  in  connection  with 
the  place  is  an  instructor  in  gunnery,  the  other 
masters  are  all  of  them  Chinese. 

Deborah  and  I have  now  come  to  the  parting  of 
the  ways.  She  goes  back  to  Teng  Cheo  Fu,  to  stay 
quietly  with  our  friends  there,  and  I dive  into  the 
interior  again  and  take  steamer  to-morrow  to  Tientsin, 
then  by  rail  to  Huai  Luh,  and  on  into  Shansi  to  see 
something  of  the  bleak  north  country,  where  the 
people  are  too  poor  to  eat  rice,  and  often  have  to  be 
content  with  hot  water  instead  of  tea. 

A few  weeks  ago,  when  crops  were  suffering  from 

246 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  drought,  some  anti-foreign  members  of  the  Shansi 
population  sought  to  propitiate  the  gods  of  the  harvest 
by  burning  models  made  of  dough,  which  were  in- 
tended to  represent,  by  their  wasplike  waists  and  other 
strange  peculiarities,  the  dreaded  foreigner.  A waist 
of  any  kind  is  repellent  to  the  Chinese,  so  I have  pro- 
vided myself  with  a long  loose  coat  to  propitiate  the 
Shansiites. 

I will  write  anon. 

Yours, 

V. 


247 


Huai  Luh, 

September,  1908. 

I had  an  amusing  time  yesterday  travelling  on 
the  Belgian-Chinese  line  from  Tientsin  to  Shi  Kia 
Chuang  with  a first-class  ticket  which  I could  not  use. 
The  only  first-class  carriage  consisted  of  a “ coupe  ” 
holding  six  seats  and  an  outer  compartment  devoted 
to  spittoons  and  a cooking-stove,  and  the  “ coupe  ” 
was  said  to  be  reserved  for  the  Viceroy’s  Yamen. 
The  Viceroy’s  party,  however,  dwindled  down  to  one 
meek-looking  little  Tai  Tai,  a mere  girl  in  appearance, 
with  her  maid,  who  sat  with  her  back  to  the  door, 
so  that  none  might  enter,  whilst  a man-servant  stood 
guard  on  the  other  side.  They  indicated  to  me  that 
I,  the  “ foreign  barbarian,”  must  stay  in  the  outer 
compartment  with  the  spittoons  and  the  cooking- 
stove,  the  seats  of  which  were  now  partly  occupied 
by  Chinese  soldiers.  I objected  to  this,  and  demanded 
a seat  in  the  “ coupe,”  where,  of  course,  there  was 
plenty  of  room  to  spare.  The  attendants  made  ex- 
cuses. They  said  the  Viceroy  had  bought  tickets  for 
all  the  seats,  but  at  that  moment  the  ticket-collector 
came  along,  which  proved  the  error  of  this  statement. 
The  next  reason  given  was  not  so  easy  to  refute. 
The  Tai  Tai  had  never  seen  a foreign  lady  before 

248 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  would  die  of  “ fright.”  On  the  contrary,  I 
said,  she  would  enjoy  the  fun  of  it ; but  the  Yamen 
servants  had  strict  orders,  apparently,  and  refused  to 
give  in.  Finally,  the  ticket-collector  explained  that 
a director  of  the  line  had  given  the  Tai  Tai  permission 
to  take  entire  possession  of  the  “ coupe.”  This,  of 
course,  was  lie  number  three,  but  it  seemed  useless 
to  argue  the  matter,  and  there  was  no  Westerner  to 
be  found  to  see  that  justice  was  done,  so  I settled 
myself  down  amongst  egg-shells  and  orange-peel  in 
an  untidy  second-class  carriage,  where  culinary  opera- 
tions had  been  in  progress.  The  stove  was  alight, 
the  day  was  very  warm,  and  my  feelings,  moreover, 
were  heated.  Later  on,  however,  we  took  on  more 
carriages  and  a first-class  compartment  was  again 
available. 

It  was  dark  before  we  arrived  at  Shi  Kia  Chuang. 
The  platform  was  alive  with  coloured  fireflies  darting 
this  way  and  that — in  other  words,  gay  paper  lanterns 
bobbing  at  the  ends  of  sticks.  An  army  of  coolies 
besieged  the  train  and  a couple  of  stalwart  youths 
seized  my  baggage. 

“ I am  expecting  a foreigner  to  meet  me,”  I said. 
“ Is  there  one  there  ? ” 

“ There  is ! there  is  ! ” they  answered  ; and  carrying 
my  things,  dashed  down  the  bank  beyond  the  plat- 
form into  the  open  land  beyond.  There  was  no 
foreigner  anywhere  in  sight,  only  a seething  mass  of 
excited  Chinese,  who  added  their  shouts  to  mine 
and  called  the  runaways  back.  I held  on  tightly  to 

249 


China  as  I Saw  It 


one  end  of  my  rug-strap  and  made  them  take  me  in 
tow.  We  went  down  the  platform  and  back  again, 
but  there  was  no  foreigner  of  any  sort  or  description. 
Wondering  what  to  do  next,  I heard  my  name  called, 
and,  would  you  believe  it,  I had  got  out  on  the  plat- 
form side  of  the  train  and  ought  to  have  got  out  at 
the  other,  where  there  was  no  platform.  My  friends, 
not  realising  that  I was  unused  to  these  contrary 
methods,  were  giving  me  up  for  lost — and  in  the 
dim  light  of  paper  lanterns  it  was,  of  course,  un- 
commonly difficult  to  make  out  one  person  from 
another. 

Shi  Kia  Chuang  is  a junction  of  the  Shansi  line 
with  the  Peking  line,  and  there  being  only  one  train 
during  the  day,  most  travellers  to  Shansi  stay  there 
for  the  night.  There  is  a modern  Chinese  inn — 
cleaner  than  most,  but  built  in  the  style  of  the  old 
camel  inns.  In  the  guest-rooms  the  “ kengs,”  or  brick 
beds,  occupied  the  whole  of  one  side  of  the  apartment, 
like  a spacious  platform ; but  my  own  room  was 
more  meagre,  and  its  chief  furniture  consisted  of 
cart-wheels,  newly  made  and  newly  varnished,  waiting 
to  be  exported  to  Peking.  The  next  morning  we 
started  forth  soon  after  daylight  to  catch  the  one 
train  of  the  day,  and  arrived  at  Huai  Luh  in  time  for 
breakfast.  I stayed  at  Huai  Luh  for  two  days  with 
friends  of  Kay’s  of  the  China  Inland  Mission. 

This  was  my  first  introduction  to  the  famous 
Loess  soil — for  a long  time,  according  to  one  eminent 
authority,  a “ geological  puzzle,”  and  said  to  be  the 


China  as  I Saw  It 


only  crop-producing  soil  in  the  world  which  never 
requires  artificial  fertilising.  Both  in  colour  and 
texture  it  resembles  dust — khaki-tinted  dust — and 
the  effect  is  mournful  in  the  last  degree.  There  is 
no  getting  away  from  it.  The  squat,  square  houses 
of  the  town  were  built  of  Loess  bricks  dried  in  the 
sun,  the  flat  roofs  were  the  same  colour  as  the  walls, 
the  roads  were  like  dried  water-courses  or  wide  ditches 
between  crumbling  banks  of  khaki-coloured  Loess 
eighteen  and  twenty  feet  or  more  in  depth.  One 
characteristic  point  about  this  strange  powdery  soil 
is  that  it  has  a way  of  splitting  up  into  clefts  which 
branch  out  in  every  direction  through  all  the  wide 
tract  of  Loess  country.  In  places  the  formation 
becomes  that  of  a series  of  terraces.  Wherever 
cultivation  is  possible,  the  land  is  planted  out  in 
crops  of  sorghum,  wheat,  millet,  sweet  potatoes, 
beans,  etc.,  but  fields  on  the  upper  level  are  apt  to 
grow  smaller  every  year  as  the  edges  break  off  or  a 
sudden  cleft  in  the  soil  carries  a part  of  them  to 
depths  below.  Consequently  the  wily  farmer  usually 
buys  the  land  at  the  foot  of  his  field,  that  he  may  be 
none  the  poorer  eventually.  There  are  no  hedges, 
nothing  but  broken  ridges  of  Loess  soil,  and  owing 
to  the  deep  clefts  and  crumbling  banks,  the  surround- 
ings of  Huai  Luh  reminded  one  of  a collection  of 
building  plots,  in  which  the  foundations  of  future 
houses  had  been  dug  out  and  then  deserted.  Now 
and  then  a spreading  tree  made  a delightful  oasis 
of  green  on  the  dun-coloured  land,  and  the  hills 

251 


China  as  I Saw  It 


three  miles  or  so  away  were  soft  blue  and  amethyst 
in  the  distance,  guarded  by  shadowy  mountains. 

The  house  where  I am  staying  was  one  of  the 
houses  of  tragedy  in  1900.  In  a little  book  entitled 
In  Deaths  Oft,  a simple  but  very  impressive  account 
has  been  given  of  their  experiences  by  our  friends  at 
Huai  Luh  in  that  eventful  year.  They  relate  how 
finally  they  were  compelled  to  flee  from  their  house 
and  took  refuge  in  the  hills,  first  in  a temple  and 
then  in  a cave,  finally  in  a farmhouse,  only  to  be  dis- 
covered in  the  end  by  the  Boxers  and  carried  forth 
to  die.  Seven  times  over  they  were  in  imminent 
danger  of  their  lives,  seven  times  over  miraculously 
delivered  from  what  appeared  to  be  certain  death, 
and  at  last,  more  dead  than  alive,  they  were  rescued 
by  the  Allied  Forces.  It  was  not  until  their  return, 
when  the  country  was  again  at  peace,  that  they  learnt 
of  their  landlord’s  treachery.  For  three  long  weeks 
before  their  flight  two  men  had  been  commissioned 
to  bring  about  their  death,  and  had  lain  in  hiding  on 
the  flat  roof  of  one  of  the  adjoining  houses,  waiting 
for  them  to  go  out  into  the  street,  so  that  the  house 
itself  should  be  saved  from  being  the  scene  of  the 
murder.  But  the  men  missed  their  opportunity, 
after  all,  and  never  got  it  again.  The  treacherous 
landlord,  who  should  by  rights  have  forfeited  his  life, 
was,  by  the  intervention  of  the  foreigners  whom  he 
had  tried  to  destroy,  granted  forgiveness.  At  the 
present  time  I believe  they  are  actually  on  friendly 
terms  with  each  other. 


252 


China  as  I Saw  It 


That  these  heroic  people  should  have  come  back 
again  to  the  scene  of  the  indescribable  sufferings 
through  which  they  passed,  to  work  again  amongst 
the  people  who  were  in  league  with  their  would-be 
murderers,  ranks,  I think,  amongst  the  finest  records 
of  Christianity. 

The  railway  near  Huai  Luh  runs  through  an  old 
graveyard  of  the  Ming  dynasty.  Large  compensation 
was  given  to  those  people  whose  family  graves  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  proximity,  or  had  to  be  moved  to 
allow  the  line  to  be  built.  Such  lucrative  possessions 
did  these  graves  become  that  their  numbers  increased 
enormously  in  a few  hours.  In  many  Chinese  grave- 
yards one  passes  through  acres  upon  acres  of  grass- 
grown  mounds — all  of  them  exactly  alike,  with  no 
mark  to  recognise  them  by — and  one  wonders  how 
it  is  that  the  Chinese  always  know  their  own  family 
graves,  and  never  by  any  chance  make  a mistake. 
They  have,  it  is  true,  an  unerring  instinct  with 
regard  to  the  points  of  the  compass,  and  use  the  terms 
north,  south,  east,  and  west — or  rather  east,  south, 
west,  and  north  (as  the  Chinese  put  it) — on  all  oc- 
casions. For  instance,  they  will  say  “ the  south 
dish  ” or  the  “ east  dish,”  instead  of  “ the  dish 
at  the  end  of  the  table,”  or  “ He  has  gone  over 
to  the  north,”  instead  of  “ He  is  at  the  other  side 
of  the  garden,”  and  I was  told  of  a woman  the 
other  day  who  was  complaining  of  a pain  in  her 
ear. 

“ Which  ear  is  it  ? ” asked  the  doctor. 

253 


China  as  I Saw  It 

“ It  is  the  one  to  the  west,”  she  said,  “ and  I am 
facing  north.” 

The  choosing  of  a site  for  a grave  is  fraught  with 
many  difficulties.  The  geomancers  choose  a place 
where  the  Azure  Dragon  * and  the  White  Tiger  + 
“ unite  harmoniously,”  and  where  there  is  no  water- 
course which,  running  straight  from  the  selected 
spot,  may  carry  away  the  “ vital  breath,”  and  where 
also  there  is  no  pernicious  breath — a straight  line,  for 
instance,  pointing  towards  the  grave.  The  straight 
lines  of  the  “foreign  barbarians’”  railways  have  done 
great  damage  over  and  over  again,  both  to  the  Azure 
Dragon  and  the  White  Tiger. 

Considering  how  deeply  rooted  in  the  minds  of 
the  people  is  this  “ Feng  Shui  ” X superstition,  one- 
marvels  that  railways  in  China  • have  increased  as 
much  as  they  have  done.  The  one  I travelled  by  to 
Tai  Yiien  Fu — the  capital  of  Shansi — is  “ run  ” by 
Westerners  and  has  only  been  open  a few  months. 

The  journey  took  twelve  hours,  but  there  were 
many  halts.  Every  twenty  minutes  or  so  we  drew  up 
at  a solitary  station — a toy  building  on  a toy  plat- 
form occupied  by  a long  line  of  soldiers,  which  gave 
a touch  of  the  unfamiliar  to  the  otherwise  common- 
place railway  premises.  But  the  country  through 
which  we  were  travelling  was  by  no  means  common- 

* Positive  current.  f Negative  current. 

J Literally  “wind  and  water.”  “Its  basic  principle  is  that  Earth 
is  but  the  reflection  of  Heaven.”  China:  its  History,  Arts,  and 
Literature. — Capt.  F.  Brinkley. 


254 


SOUTH  GATE  AT  TA1  YUEN  FU 


China  as  I Saw  It 


place.  The  train  crept  laboriously  uphill — worming 
its  way  through  the  mountains  into  the  province  of 
Shansi,  and  meandered  along  through  wide  tracts  of 
the  Loess  country — through  cuttings  in  Loess  cliffs 
hundreds  of  feet  deep,  past  vast  terraced  regions 
of  the  powdery  khaki-tinted  soil,  on  to  high  ridges 
from  which  one  looked  down  on  to  sunken  roads 
at  the  foot  of  precipices  and  into  deep  hollows  of 
the  crumbling  dun-coloured  earth.  'The  walls  of 
the  houses  were  built  chiefly  of  Loess  bricks, 
ranged  in  straight  rows  one  on  top  of  the  other,  like 
old  vellum  books  on  invisible  shelves,  and  covered 
with  plaster,  which  in  many  cases  had  peeled  off. 
The  flat  roofs  and  Loess  walls  being  identical  in 
colour  to  the  surrounding  soil,  the  towns  were  prac- 
tically invisible  from  afar.  There  were  no  trees 
anywhere.  Now  and  again  large  dark,  tunnel-like 
holes  punctured  the  face  of  a cliff.  These  turned 
out  to  be  cave-dwellings,  which  are  favourite  resi- 
dences in  this  part  of  the  country. 

At  Tai  Yuen  Fu  my  friend,  Miss  S.,  was  there  to 
meet  me.  We  crawled  on  all  fours  into  one  of  the 
springless  covered  carts,  and  our  “ bones  were  rattled 
over  the  stones,”  along  the  rough  track  to  the  city 
gates.  My  Chinese  name  was  given  to  the  sentry  on 
guard,  and  we  passed  through  into  a wide  street  lined 
with  high  walls  and  low-roofed  houses,  and  dotted 
with  trees — the  very  sight  of  which  was  a joy  in 
this  barren  Loess  country.  A couple  of  hundred 
yards  down  we  drew  up  at  shabby  double  doors 

255 


China  as  I Saw  It 


under  a porch  with  a curved  roof,  and  following  my 
hostess  through  a labyrinth  of  tiny  courtyards,  each 
one  opening  out  of  the  other  round  some  unexpected 
corner,  we  came  at  last  to  a little  garden,  round  which 
cheerfully  lighted  pavilions  (they  turned  out  after- 
wards to  be  bedrooms  and  sitting-rooms)  announced 
that  we  had  “ arrived.” 

Tai  Yiien  Fu  interests  me  greatly. 

A little  more  than  eight  years  ago  it  was,  alas ! the 
scene  of  one  of  the  most  terrible  massacres  of  modern 
times.  Every  foreigner  in  the  place — man,  woman, 
and  child — was  done  to  death,  and  horrors,  the  history 
of  which  no  one  fully  knows  or  ever  speaks  about, 
save  with  bated  breath — were  enacted  in  this  very 
city  before  the  eyes  of  all  these  people  whom  we  pass 
daily  in  the  streets,  and  who  look  at  us  half  in  wonder, 
half  in  contempt.  A little  more  than  eight  years 
ago  they  flattered  themselves  they  had  got  rid  of 
the  “ outer  barbarians  ” for  ever. 

But  it  was  not  so. 

Here  they  are  all  back  again  in  greater  numbers 
than  before  ; the  buildings  that  were  razed  to  the 
ground  have  been  re-erected  and  are  twice  the  size 
of  the  old  ones ; new  “ foreign  ” houses  have  sprung 
into  existence.  The  dreaded  “ iron  road  ” and  “ fire 
carriage  ” have  ventured  to  within  half  a “ li  ” of 
the  city  gates,  and  an  “ Imperial  University  ” for 
the  acquirement  of  Western  learning,  with  two 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


hundred  Chinese  graduates  in  residence,  has  cropped 
up  in  their  very  midst  under  a staff  of  Western 
professors,  and  is  approved  of  and  smiled  upon  by 
His  Excellency  the  “ Fu,”  who  on  the  occasion  of 
a recent  examination  attended  the  University  him- 
self day  after  day  for  a whole  week  to  “ drink  tea  ” 
and  lend  his  countenance  to  the  proceedings  ! 

This  University  was  built,  by  the  way,  with  the 
indemnity  money  which  the  Protestant  Missions  re- 
fused to  take  after  the  1900  massacres,  stipulating, 
however,  that  it  should  be  used  for  purposes  of  educa- 
tion in  the  city.  Other  schools  and  colleges  have 
been  started  by  the  Chinese  themselves.  There  are 
said  to  be  several  thousand  students  in  Tai  Yuen  Fu, 
so  that  the  two  hundred  in  the  Western  University 
are  but  a small  proportion  of  the  whole. 

The  Government  school  for  girls  is  quite  a new 
institution.  In  their  efforts  to  get  pupils,  education 
is  given  gratis,  and  some  are  even  paid  to  attend. 

The  two  most  advanced  scholars  in  my  friend’s  school 
were  won  over  by  a promise  of  money  ! We  went 
over  the  buildings  one  day,  and  were  amused  to  see 
that  the  pupils  varied  from  five  and  six  to  fifty  and 
sixty  years  of  age  ! Probably,  as  Chinese  women 
look  old  for  their  years,  the  latter  were,  in  reality, 
thirty  or  forty.  There  seems  to  be  some  difficulty  in 
getting  efficient  teachers.  One  or  two  of  them  are 
“ Tai  Tai’s,”  women  of  position  and  property,  who 
give  their  services  gratis.  From  the  textbooks  one 
realised  that  the  subjects  taught  were  Western  sub- 
s 257 


China  as  I Saw  It 


jects.  If  the  letterpress  is  as  ludicrous  as  some  of 
the  illustrations,  one  wonders  in  what  strange  form 
Western  ideas  are  presented  to  these  enquiring 
Chinese  minds.  The  books  that  we  saw  were  dis- 
tinctly elementary ; but  many  of  the  scholars  of 
course,  even  the  elderly  ones,  were  only  just  beginning 
their  education  on  Western  lines.  On  the  part  of  the 
latter  it  showed  a good  deal  of  pluck  to  begin  it 
at  all ! 

The  English  class  had  been  given  up  as  hopeless. 
This  was  hardly  surprising  when  one  considered  that 
the  teachers  had  only  had  something  like  half  a dozen 
lessons  themselves  to  begin  with  and  had  deeply  re- 
sented all  corrections. 

A “ Tai  Tai  ” who  lives  next  door,  and  comes  in 
sometimes  to  call,  tells  us  that  in  a Chinese  girls’ 
school  punishments  usually  consist  of  blows  on  the 
palm  of  the  hand  with  a flat  stick.  In  the  case  of  a 
child,  however,  whose  offence  has  been  exceptionally 
great,  the  culprit  is  “ sentenced  ” to  take  the  punish- 
ment into  her  own  hands  ! Apparently  it  is  a point 
of  honour  to  do  the  deed  thoroughly,  and  a child 
who  has  beaten  herself  will  have  a horribly  bruised 
and  swollen  hand  for  days  to  come  ! 

I have  taken  on  an  English  class  in  my  friend’s 
school  for  a week  or  two,  and  the  other  morning 
the  children  gathered  round  me  at  the  end  of  the 
lesson  with  an  eager  request.  They  wanted  to  know 
whether  my  “ front  teeth  took  out,”  and  when  I 
laughingly  refuted  the  idea  their  faces  fell,  and 

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China  as  I Saw  It 

I knew  I had  distinctly  lowered  myself  in  their 
estimation. 

There  is  a great  charm  about  these  Chinese  girls 
with  their  dainty,  courteous  ways  and  dark  eyes 
which  light  up  merrily  at  the  least  encouragement. 
But  everything  in  China  has  its  surprises,  and  the 
gentle  little  schoolgirls  are  no  exception  to  the  rule. 
My  hostess  once  planned  to  give  them  a treat  on  her 
birthday.  They  were  to  choose  what  it  was  to  be. 
Picture  to  yourself  those  dainty  little  maidens  had 
but  one  wish — they  wanted  to  go  to  the  execution 
ground  to  see  the  beheading!  Needless  to  say,  a 
second  choice  was  requested. 

This  last  week  we  have  been  paying  calls  on  some 
of  the  “ Tai  Tai’s  ” of  Tai  Yuen  Fu,  and  others  of 
more  humble  social  standing.  Left  to  myself,  I 
should  have  found  difficulty  in  telling  one  from  the 
other,  except  in  a few  special  cases.  As  to  the  guest- 
rooms, there  is  a strong  similarity  between  them 
wherever  you  go.  The  chief  piece  of  furniture — a 
table  placed  against  the  wall  like  an  altar,  with 
its  set  of  metal  incense  burners,  its  vases  and  candle- 
sticks : on  either  side — two  solid  chairs  of  dark  wood 
or  ebony — the  seats  of  honour.  If  there  happens  to 
be  a cloth  on  the  table,  in  accordance  with  Chinese 
custom,  it  is  hung  across  the  front  instead  of  being 
spread  over  the  top  ! 

The  floor  is  usually  of  flag-stones  more  or  less  uneven, 
the  walls  of  plaster  which  is  peeling  off.  A few  scrolls, 
and  occasionally  a mirror,  adorn  the  walls,  and — if  the 

259 


China  as  I Saw  It 


room  happens  to  be  a living-room  as  well  as  a guest- 
room— one  side  of  it  is  filled  by  the  inevitable  “ keng,” 
which  at  night  serves  as  a bedroom  for  the  whole 
family,  and  in  the  daytime  does  duty  as  a sofa,  a 
bench,  a table,  a bookshelf — anything  you  please.  The 
windows,  of  course,  are  of  paper  and  the  light  is 
subdued. 

We  were  asked  to  call  on  a “ Tai  Tai  ” who  be- 
longed to  one  of  the  Yamens,  but  who,  in  her  desire 
for  a quiet  life,  had  gone  to  live  in  a neighbouring 
“ kong  kuan  ” (palace).  Expecting  our  visit,  she  was 
dressed  and  “ painted  ” to  receive  us.  A group  of 
relatives  and  handmaidens  escorted  us  across  an  inner 
court  to  the  guest-room.  After  long  haggling  as  to 
who  should  have  the  left-hand  seat  of  honour  at  the 
altar-like  table,  I was  pressed  into  it,  as  the  “ hsin 
lai  tih  keh  ” (the  newly  arrived  guest).  Conversation 
was  difficult,  as  the  “ Tai  Tai,”  a southerner,  was  not 
accustomed  to  northern  mandarin.  A bright-faced 
girl,  however,  joined  in  the  talk  with  fluency.  It 
turned  out  that  she  was  the  second  wife,  and  as  be- 
tween the  first  and  the  second  wife  there  is  apt  to  be 
jealousy,  care  had  to  be  taken  to  devote  most  of  the 
attention  to  our  somewhat  silent  and  uninteresting 
hostess. 

On  these  occasions,  when  tea  is  brought  in,  eti- 
quette ordains  that  one  must  refrain  from  raising  the 
cup  to  one’s  lips  until  especially  requested  to  do  so. 
Even  then  good  manners  require  one  to  offer  it,  first 
of  all,  to  the  hostess,  who,  however,  signifies  her 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


refusal,  but  reiterates  her  invitation.  The  handling 
of  the  cup  requires  caution.  To  be  polite,  two  hands 
should  be  used  and  the  cover  not  removed,  only 
pushed  slightly  back  to  allow  the  tea  without  leaves 
to  ooze  through  to  one’s  lips.  Strange  cakes  of 
squashed  dates  in  savoury  paste  are  offered,  which 
you  must  on  no  account  refuse  to  eat.  Nobody  be- 
lieves that  you  do  not  want  more  when  you  have 
finished  the  first.  Fingers  which  are  by  no  means 
clean  thrust  a fresh  supply  of  dainties  into  your  hands 
and  pile  them  up  on  the  table  beside  your  cup.  At 
the  end  of  the  visit  you  hug  your  waist  with  many 
bows  and  smiles. 

The  hostess  says,  “ When  you  are  not  busy,  come 
again  and  sit  a little.” 

“ We  will  come  again  to  wish  you  peace,”  we  reply. 
And  again  we  all  bow. 

“ Forgive  my  not  accompanying  you,”  she  answers. 
“ Walk  slowly.” 

“ Detain  your  steps,”  we  hasten  to  add.  “ Do  not 
come  out.  We  do  not  want  to  be  treated  with  cere- 
mony ” (literally,  “ not  want  guest’s  breath  ”),  and 
again  we  all  bow. 

But  the  hostess  does  not  retreat.  At  every  corner 
the  performance  is  repeated.  Sometimes  she  comes 
as  far  as  the  outer  gate,  and  the  leave-takings  seem 
endless.  According  to  strict  etiquette  the  person  of 
superior  rank  must  be  the  first  to  turn  the  back,  but 
sometimes,  in  the  case  of  a Chinese  and  a foreigner,  the 
social  standing  is  difficult  to  decide.  Neither  wishes 


China  as  I Saw  It 


to  pretend  to  be  superior  to  the  other  in  rank,  and 
much  time  is  wasted. 

On  the  occasion  of  our  visit  to  the  “ Tai  Tai’s  ” in 
the  “ kong  kuan  ” they  insisted,  to  my  horror,  on 
paying  the  fare  of  the  two  covered  carts  which  were 
waiting  for  us  at  the  door  ! 

Etiquette  varies,  and  is  not  so  strict  amongst  the 
women  as  amongst  the  men.  Should  a “ Tai  Tai  ” 
desire  to  get  rid  of  a guest  who  has  stayed  too  long, 
she  simply  orders  the  servant  to  make  some  more  tea. 
The  guest,  recognising  the  signal,  rises  immediately  ! 
There  are  no  less  than  three  thousand  rules  of 
behaviour.  If  anyone  exists  who  knows  and  obeys 
them  all,  I cannot  say,  but  to  a greater  or  less 
degree  they  permeate  all  classes  of  society.  The 
cultivated  manners  of  the  cook  and  the  coolie  are 
often  astonishing. 

Another  day  I was  taken  to  call  on  an  elderly 
Manchu  lady  who  had  known  the  Dowager-Empress 
in  her  youth.  In  those  days  the  Manchu  “ Tai  Tai  ” 
was  in  a much  better  social  position  than  the  “ Huang 
Tai  Ho,”  but  the  see-saw  of  time  has  sent  the  one 
up  and  the  other  down  ; and  whilst  the  Dowager- 
Empress  rules  in  power  over  the  Dragon  Throne  and 
the  “ Son  of  Heaven  ” himself,  the  old  Manchu 
“ Tai  Tai  ” lives  in  a couple  of  rooms  leading 
into  a paved  court  around  which  other  families 
have  their  humble  dwelling-places.  In  the  inner 
chamber,  however,  into  which  we  were  bidden, 
there  were  some  handsome  pieces  of  furniture 

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China  as  I Saw  It 

and  choice  bits  of  porcelain  — relics  of  former 
grandeur. 

The  “ Tai  Tai  ” was  seventy-three — the  same  age 
as  the  Empress — but  old  for  her  years.  Her  eyes  were 
very  dim  and  her  back  was  very  bent,  but  her  memory 
retained  its  vigour.  With  a little  encouragement  she 
told  us  of  the  days  of  her  youth,  when  the  Empress 
Yehonala,  a young  and  strikingly  handsome  girl,  lived  in 
the  city  of  Tai  Yuen  Fu.  Her  father,  a small  official, 
had  died  a year  or  two  previously,  leaving  his  family 
in  somewhat  straitened  circumstances.  The  mother, 
much  to  the  indignation  of  her  son,  married  again. 

The  home  was  not  a happy  one.  Yehonala’s 
brother,  enraged  with  his  mother,  did  all  in  his  power 
to  thwart  her.  Yehonala,  on  the  contrary,  took  her 
mother’s  part.  The  day  arrived,  however,  when  her 
home  life  came  to  an  abrupt  end.  In  accordance 
with  custom,  a certain  number  of  daughters  of  Manchu 
officers,  selected  on  account  of  their  good  looks,  were 
sent  up  to  Peking  to  be  passed  in  review  before  the 
mother  of  the  Emperor,  who  chose  from  amongst 
them  girls  for  the  Imperial  “ harem.”  The  first 
choice  fell  upon  the  handsome  maiden  from  Tai 
Yuen  Fu. 

In  course  of  time  a son  was  born  to  Yehonala, 
whose  name  had  now  been  changed  to  “Tzi  Hsi,” 
whereas  the  Emperor’s  real  wife  had  no  son.  Thus 
gradually  Tzi  Hsi,  who  was  very  clever  as  well  as 
very  beautiful,  became  more  and  more  powerful,  and 
when  finally  the  Emperor’s  first  wife  and  then  the 

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China  as  I Saw  It 

Emperor  himself  “ became  guests  on  high,”  Tzi  Hsi 
found  herself  practically  in  possession  of  the  Dragon 
Throne,  and  mercilessly  did  she  use  the  power  that 
had  become  hers  so  unexpectedly. 

With  a bitterly  revengeful  spirit,  she  never  forgave 
or  forgot  an  injury,  either  real  or  fancied.  She  hunted 
down  everyone  who  in  any  way  had  been  unfriendly 
towards  her  dead  father,  or  probably,  in  the  more 
refined  Chinese  style,  presented  them  each  with  a 
white  scarf,  which  mark  of  attention  would  leave 
them  no  alternative  but  to  put  an  end  to  themselves, 
and  that  as  speedily  as  possible.  As  to  her  mother, 
during  her  lifetime  she  lavished  gifts  upon  her  of 
great  magnificence,  but  after  her  death  was  fiercely 
determined  that  the  hated  brother  should  in  no  wise 
profit  by  his  mother’s  property,  to  which  he  had  a 
legal  right,  and  gave  secret  orders  that  the  house 
should  be  burnt  to  the  ground  and  everything  utterly 
destroyed  ! 

Listening  to  the  old  “ Tai  Tai’s  ” reminiscences, 
and  thinking  of  1900,  the  shadow  of  which  still 
haunts  the  city  of  Tai  Yuen  Fu,  one  felt  that  the 
beautiful  Yehonala  had,  alas ! more  than  fulfilled  the 
promise  of  her  youth.  It  is  said — and  by  those  in  high 
places — that  once  again  before  she  dies  she  means  to 
try  a second  time  to  sweep  the  hated  foreigner  from 
the  country. 

Meanwhile,  though  there  are  rumours  of  unrest, 
there  are  no  visible  signs  of  any.  The  gentlest  mem- 
ber of  our  household,  the  cook,  is  a Boxer.  He  is  a 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


man  with  an  engaging  smile,  who  seems  to  have  a 
magnetic  attraction  for  all  the  household  pets — in 
other  words,  two  unchained  cats  and  a dog.  In  the 
west  of  China  cats  were  chained  up,  while  dogs  ran 
loose  ! 

Anyway,  they  are  far  more  valuable  out  here  than 
at  home.  Abbe  Hue  tells  of  some  that  were  used  as 
clocks.  From  nine  till  eleven  the  pupil  of  the  cat’s 
eye  is  large  and  round  ; from  one  till  three,  pointed 
at  each  end  ; from  eleven  till  one,  a single  thread, 
and  so  on. 

But  to  return  to  our  Boxer  cook.  Not  long  ago  he 
expressed  his  wish  to  take  to  himself  a wife.  Not 
having  money  enough  for  the  purpose,  my  friend 
very  generously  gave  him  forty  dollars  towards  the 
desired  acquisition.  He  found  someone  who  from 
all  accounts  seemed  suitable.  My  friend  naturally 
asked  for  particulars. 

The  cook’s  face  beamed. 

“ She  has  two  cupboards,”  he  said,  “ and  a table  ! ” 
“ Yes,  yes  ! But  what  is  she  like — in  character  ? ” 
It  was  hopeless.  All  the  answer  she  could  get  was  : 
“ Two  cupboards  and  a table  ! ” 

They  are  excellent  servants,  these  Chinese,  as  every- 
body knows,  and  in  the  bliss  of  ignorance  there  are 
times  when  I hanker  after  bringing  a few  back  with 
me.  I begin  to  realise,  however,  some  of  the  diffi- 
culties in  connection  with  them. 

Thanks  to  the  fact  that  everybody  is  in  league  with 
everybody  else,  it  becomes  uncommonly  hard  to  get 

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China  as  I Saw  It 

rid  of  a servant  who  does  not  want  to  go,  or  to  engage 
another  against  whom  the  others  have  an  objection. 

The  school  cook  was  given  notice  to  quit,  as  his 
cooking  was  not  up  to  the  mark.  He  took  his  dis- 
missal cheerfully,  and  a new  cook  was  engaged  to 
come  in  the  following  week.  On  the  morning  when 
he  should  have  arrived  a message  was  sent  in  to  say 
his  “ wife  was  dying  ” and  therefore  he  could  not 
appear  for  a few  days.  Thereupon  the  old  cook  was 
asked  if  he  would  “ oblige  ” for  a short  time  longer. 
Smilingly  he  declined,  saying  he  would  “ lose  face  ” if 
he  did  so  after  having  been  given  notice  to  quit. 

The  table  boy,  therefore,  was  sent  for  and  told  to 
get  in  the  cook’s  brother  to  serve  as  a stop-gap,  but 
the  table  boy  had  a plan  worth  two  of  that  ! He 
returned  a moment  or  so  later  to  say  that  the  old 
cook  would  be  prepared  to  stay  if,  on  the  arrival 
of  the  new  cook,  he  might  be  given  another  post  in 
the  house,  and  as  more  visitors  were  arriving  and 
extra  help  would  be  needed  before  long,  my  friend 
agreed. 

The  servants  having  got  what  they  wanted,  the 
“ dying  wife  ” regained  her  health  in  a few  hours 
and  all  went  smilingly. 

A Chinese  cook  is  never  at  a loss.  In  foreign 
circles,  where  knowledge  of  the  Chinese  language  is 
held  at  a discount,  the  affairs  of  the  kitchen  are  regu- 
lated in  a manner  which  would  surprise  not  a little 
the  mistress  of  the  house.  Should  it  happen  one  day 
that  an  impromptu  invitation  to  dinner  has  been 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


given  and  accepted,  the  cook  when  informed  that  guests 
are  coming,  “ Catchee  chow  this  side  ” shows  no  per- 
turbation of  mind.  He  merely  goes  off  to  the  house 
of  the  invited  guests  and  makes  their  cook  hand  over 
the  dinner  they  would  have  eaten  had  they  been  at 
home. 

When  accounts  are  given  in  at  the  end  of  the  week 
both  cooks  are  gainers.  The  cook  whose  master  and 
mistress  went  out  charges  them  for  the  dinner  they 
did  not  eat  and  makes  a “ squeeze  ” out  of  the  cook 
who  “ borrowed  ” the  dinner,  who  in  his  turn  charges 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  guests.  It  is  difficult 
to  be  even  with  them,  as  I found  to  my  cost  when  I 
suggested  to  the  table  boy  that  I should  like  to  buy 
one  of  the  embroidered  Manchu  gowns. 

His  face  brightened. 

In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  he  appeared 
with  an  assortment.  The  man  to  whom  they  be- 
longed remained  in  the  background.  It  was  (we 
shrewdly  guessed)  the  table  boy  who  arranged  the 
prices  with  a view  to  heavy  “ squeezes  ” on  his  own 
account.  For  once  he  overreached  himself.  We  de- 
cided they  were  much  too  dear  and  would  have  none 
of  them. 

I little  knew  what  I was  doing.  Thereafter,  when- 
ever I tried  to  buy  a Manchu  gown,  the  way  was 
barred.  The  table  boy  had  determined  that  I must 
get  one  through  him  or  not  at  all.  I enquired  at  the 
shops  ; they  had  none,  or  only  some  that  were  too 
small  or  otherwise  unsuitable.  I asked  the  other 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


servants  ; they  shook  their  heads,  or  smilingly  said 
“ yes  ” and  meant  “ no.” 

Finally  I confided  my  difficulties  to  a neighbouring 
“ Tai  Tai,”  and  through  her  succeeded  in  effecting 
my  wished-for  purchase.  The  table  boy  had  been 
foiled  at  last,  but  he  behaved  with  greater  amiability 
than  ever. 

I notice  that  he  makes  purses  of  the  lobes  of  his 
ears,  and  extracts  twenty-cent  pieces  from  them  like 
a conjurer.  This  seems  to  be  another  thrifty  custom 
of  the  Chinese ; but  though  their  ears  are  often 
abnormally  large,  their  capacity  in  the  matter  of 
coins  would  soon  be  exhausted  ! 


October  1 1 th. 

I am  enthusiastic  over  the  Tai  Yiien  Fu  climate, 
except  on  those  days  when  the  wind  blows  the  light 
powdery  Loess  soil  in  thick  clouds  of  dust  through 
the  air  and  covers  the  houses  inside  and  out  with 
grit.  The  plain  whereon  the  city  is  situated  is 
two  thousand  feet  above  sea-level ; the  air  is  crisp 
and  invigorating.  I have  a “ mountain  ” appetite 
and  energy  to  match,  but  they  tell  me  that  appetite 
goes  after  a while,  and  sleep  fails,  and  one’s  hair  falls 
off,  and  one’s  skin  dries  up,  and  one’s  bones  crack 
from  the  excessive  dryness  of  the  atmosphere,  and 
that  altogether  the  climate  of  North  China  is  “ trying 
to  the  nerves.” 


268 


PAGODAS  AT  TAI  YUEN  l'U 


China  as  I Saw  It 


This  statement  apparently  does  not  apply  to  the 
natives  ; one  does  not  hear  much  of  nervous  ailments 
in  China  : one  hears  more  of  plague  and  famine  and 
fever.  The  plague  is  raging  not  far  off  at  the  present 
time,  and  Tai  Yuen  Fu  is  never  free  from  typhus  and 
smallpox.  About  thirty  years  ago  this  district  was 
partly  depopulated  by  a terrible  famine,  and  is  still 
sparsely  inhabited  in  comparison  to  many  other  parts 
of  China. 

The  city  at  the  present  time  contains  about  twenty- 
five  thousand  inhabitants,  and  there  is  room  for  many 
more.  In  the  country  round  one  is  struck  by  the 
absence  of  people  and  the  scarcity  of  human  habita- 
tions. The  surroundings  of  the  city  are  bleak  and 
desolate.  I was  lent  a horse  one  day,  and  rode  out 
with  some  friends  to  the  two  melancholy  khaki- 
coloured  pagodas  standing  side  by  side  on  a bit  of 
rising  ground — three  stories  high  and  touched  up 
with  blue-enamelled  tiles.  Every  town  of  any  conse- 
quence owns  at  least  one  pagoda — built  to  control  its 
destinies,  to  impart  good  influences,  and  repress  evil 
ones. 

Occasionally  they  have  been  known  to  fail  in  their 
purpose.  I have  read  of  one  in  West  China  which 
was  partly  pulled  down  after  a few  years,  not  very 
long  ago,  as  the  Dragon  was  said  to  be  feeling  un- 
comfortable— from  the  weight  of  the  pagoda  pressing 
on  his  body.  In  his  irritation  he  hindered  the  literary 
success  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  no  one  had  attained 
an  M.A.  degree  for  seven  years.  When,  however,  the 

269 


China  as  I Saw  It 


pagoda  had  been  diminished  in  height  a scholar  of 
the  city  came  out  with  flying  colours  at  the  next 
examination.  It  was  evident  to  all  concerned  that 
the  Dragon  was  appeased  ! 

We  rode  along  through  wide  stretches  of  more  or 
less  level  vegetable  fields,  broken  and  scarred  by 
sunken  paths  and  roadways  like  dried  water-courses 
between  high  “ cliffs  ” of  dun-coloured  Loess  soil. 
From  the  rising  ground  by  the  pagodas  we  could  see 
for  miles  around  on  every  side  across  the  treeless, 
sunburnt,  dust-swept  plain  to  the  distant  hills — blue 
and  hazy  in  the  waning  light  of  the  day. 

As  to  the  city  itself,  three  miles  to  the  west  of  us, 
like  all  Chinese  cities,  it  “ hides  its  light  under  a 
bushel.”  There  is  nothing  to  be  seen  of  it  but  the 
city  wall — mud-coloured  and  darkened  with  age. 
The  gates  are  shut  at  six  (seven  in  the  summer),  and 
only  in  a case  of  life  and  death  can  they  be  reopened. 
From  the  top  of  the  wall,  however,  a Chinese  city 
often  appears  to  be  what  it  is  not — a charming  rural 
village,  or  group  of  villages,  embowered  in  trees ; but 
as  you  come  down  from  the  wall  and  plunge  through 
the  dust,  ankle  deep  in  the  roads  around  the  gates, 
and  enter  one  of  the  busy  streets  and  thread  your 
way  through  some  of  the  narrow  alleys,  between  high 
walls  and  past  dingy  courtyards  and  unspeakable 
rubbish  heaps,  you  ask  yourself  what  has  become  of 
the  trees.  They  ha"\e  disappeared  entirely,  and  are 
shut  inside  inner  courts,  where  few  may  penetrate. 

Just  outside  the  south  gate  of  the  city  a corner  of 

270 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  great  wall  looks  as  though  it  were  festooned  with 
crimson  hangings,  and  the  trunk  of  an  old  tree  stand- 
ing in  the  shadow  is  as  highly  decorated  as  the  wall. 

“ What  can  that  be  ? ” I asked,  straining  my  eyes 
to  see  more  clearly. 

“ Why,  that  is  the  tree,”  they  said,  “ where  the 
spirit  of  the  Fox  resides,”  and  we  walked  across  the 
field  to  see  it. 

The  red  hangings  turned  out  to  be  red  paper,  sheets 
upon  sheets  of  it,  inscribed  in  characters  which  to  me 
were  enigmatical,  chiefly  prayers  for  help  in  times  of 
sickness  and  thanksgivings  for  mercies  received. 

For  the  fox,  though  veiled  in  a certain  amount  of 
mystery,  is  said  to  have  strange  powers  in  China.  He 
sees  all  things,  hears  all  things,  and  secrets  are  known 
unto  him.  He  can  transform  himself  at  will  into 
other  forms,  and  when  one  thousand  years  old  be- 
comes white  or  golden,  and  after  that  period  his 
powers  are  greater  than  ever. 

It  is  said  that  a year  or  two  ago  this  Tai  Yuen  Fu 
Fox  went  away  for  a time.  How  it  was  known  that 
he  had  come  back  to  his  old  haunts  history  does  not 
relate,  but  it  was  evident  from  the  masses  of  paper 
prayers,  etc.,  which  are  gradually  covering  a long 
stretch  of  the  wall,  that  his  services  are  much  in 
request  ! 

One  marvels  that  the  creature  of  the  “ sacred  ” 
tree  should  be  a fox  instead  of  a tiger.  The  latter 
meets  one  on  all  occasions — painted  as  large  as  life 
and  even  larger  on  the  walls  outside  big  houses  to  keep 

271 


China  as  I Saw  It 


off  evil  spirits,  sold  in  the  form  of  silver  cap  orna- 
ments and  stuffed  pillows,  and  embroidered  on  the 
toes  of  babies’  shoes  to  save  them  from  illness.  Yes- 
terday I saw  one  made  of  silk,  with  a tail  curled  over 
at  the  tip  like  the  handle  of  a teapot,  sewn  on  to  the 
back  of  a child’s  tunic.  It  had  the  power,  they  said, 
of  warding  off  infection  ! 

To-morrow  I am  starting  off  on  a little  journey 
down  the  province  in  a cart — one  of  those  springless 
Pekingese  carts  in  which  everybody  travels  in  these 
parts,  except  those  who  ride  on  horseback.  I forget 
whether  I have  described  them  to  you  before.  They 
are  the  hansom-cabs  of  Tai  Yiien  Fu,  and  we  drive 
out  in  them  on  all  occasions.  There  is  no  seat ; you 
curl  up  as  best  you  can  on  the  floor  of  the  cart.  You 
try  to  keep  your  balance  by  holding  on  with  a hand 
to  either  side — not,  indeed,  to  avoid  falling  out,  of 
which  there  is  no  danger,  but  to  prevent  yourself 
from  being  dashed  against  the  wooden  sides,  against 
which,  in  the  case  of  a sudden  lurch  in  an  extra  deep 
rut,  you  may  receive  a stunning  blow  on  the  head. 
As  to  sitting  up  comfortably  and  enjoying  the  scenery, 
that,  too,  is  impossible.  The  hood  of  the  cart  is  like 
a dish-cover  planked  down  on  the  top  of  you,  and 
tilted  up  a little  at  one  end,  showing  the  erratic  move- 
ments of  the  mule  in  the  shafts.  The  driver  usually 
walks  by  the  side  and  seldom  holds  the  reins.  He 
leaves  them  dangling  on  the  back  of  the  creature  and 
guides  by  his  voice,  using  a set  of  phrases  which 
Chinese  mules  understand  better  than  anything  else. 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


Hence  a foreigner  who  attempts  Western  methods  of 
driving  is  utterly  lost.  His  only  hope  lies  in  the 
acquirement  of  the  approved  vocabulary.  I know  the 
beginning  of  it : “ li  li  ” means  “ left  ” ; “ iieh  iieh  ” = 
“ right  ” ; “ tr-r-r-r  ” = “ stop  ” ; “ te-te-te  ” = “ go 
on.”  The  right  tone  must  be  used,  however,  or  the 
mule  turns  a deaf  ear. 

After  weeks  upon  weeks  of  dry  weather  the  rain 
has  suddenly  started  coming  down  in  bucketfuls. 
We  have  delayed  a day  because  of  it,  and  now  they 
say  the  roads  are  almost  impassable.  Whether  we 
shall  get  anywhere  or  nowhere  remains  to  be  seen, 
and  we  are  taking  spades  and  “ things  ” in  order  to 
dig  ourselves  out  if  we  get  stuck  ! 

Good-bye  for  the  present. 

Yours, 

V. 


T 


273 


Ping  Yao, 

October  28 th. 

We  have  been  five  days  on  the  road  doing  about 
eighty  miles,  and  we  meant  to  be  two  ! But  if 
you  could  have  seen  first  the  vehicles  in  which  we 
travelled,  and  then  the  roads,  you  would  have  mar- 
velled at  our  ever  getting  anywhere  at  all ! I had 
intended  to  have  one  of  the  Tai  Yuen  Fu  hansom 
cabs,  which  I described  to  you  in  my  last  letter,  but 
for  some  reason  or  other  none  could  be  got,  and  the 
“ ta  chae  ” (big  cart)  was  far  more  comfortable  for 
a long  journey. 

How  can  I describe  it  to  you  ? The  wheels  were 
the  chief  feature — great  oval  wheels  studded  with 
gigantic  nails.  A few  planks  loosely  put  together 
formed  the  body  of  the  cart,  and  the  roof  consisted 
of  a piece  of  matting  arched  over  from  side  to  side. 
A couple  of  horses  and  a mule — the  strongest  in  the 
shafts,  the  others  some  distance  off,  linked  on  by  ropes, 
made  up  the  team.  My  bedding  was  spread  on  the 
planks  for  me  to  sit  on,  and  my  boxes  heaped  up  be- 
hind to  lean  against.  I was  in  luxury  in  comparison 
to  the  rest  of  the  party.  In  the  other  cart  ten  native 
women  and  two  children,  shapeless  masses  of  wadded 
garments,  were  packed  closely  together  as  much  out 

274 


A SHANSI  INN 


China  as  I Saw  It 

of  sight  as  possible  under  the  matting  hood.  Mrs.  F., 
my  Ping  Yao  hostess,  made  the  eleventh  adult  in  that 
other  cart  until  I arrived  on  the  scene. 

As  it  was,  it  seemed  to  me  the  two  of  us  had  none 
too  much  room.  I marvelled  at  the  good  humour  of 
the  ten  women  and  the  two  children.  Outside  the 
city  gates  the  roads  were  a slough  more  than  a foot 
deep  of  slimy  chocolate  mud.  One  calls  them  roads , 
but  they  are  only  tracks  worn  deeper  and  deeper 
through  many  hundreds  of  years.  The  very  name  is 
significant.  In  the  north  of  China  a road  is  called 
“ tao  ” (a  way)  instead  of  “ lu  ” (a  road). 

Early  in  the  day  we  came  to  an  abrupt  standstill. 
The  cart  with  the  ten  women  had  sunk  so  deeply 
into  a rut  that  no  amount  of  pulling  was  any  good. 
They  unharnessed  a couple  of  our  horses  and  hitched 
them  on  to  the  struggling  team,  but  with  no  effect. 
Finally,  the  carters  had  recourse  to  the  spades,  and 
the  half-buried  wheels  were  dug  out. 

At  midday  we  halted  for  lunch.  Of  all  miserable 
places  in  bad  weather,  a Shansi  inn  is  the  worst.  The 
yard  into  which  we  were  obliged  to  dismount  might 
have  been  a pig-sty,  and  the  rooms,  with  their  mud 
floors  and  torn-paper  windows,  were  just  good 
enough  for  cow-sheds. 

The  rain  had  started  again,  and  all  the  afternoon 
we  dragged  on  slowly  through  a river  of  slush,  heaving 
half  over  every  now  and  then  in  a miry  pit.  We  were 
still  a good  ten  miles  from  the  end  of  the  first  day’s 
stage.  It  was  getting  dark,  and  the  road  and  the 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


fields  looked  much  of  a muchness — one  dreary  stretch 
of  mud  and  water. 

We  drew  up  suddenly  and  only  just  in  time.  A 
few  more  steps  would  have  landed  us  in  a stream. 
The  bridge  was  broken  down — and  progress  barred. 
But  not  a bit  of  it — a Chinese  is  never  at  a loss  ; he 
finds  a way  out  somehow  always.  With  marvellous 
ingenuity  they  mended  the  bridge  with  bundles  of 
“ ko  - liang  ” stalks  (sorghum),  and  shovelled  on 
stones  and  mud  with  the  ever-useful  spades. 

But  at  the  next  village  we  came  to  they  were  deter- 
mined to  go  no  further. 

“ Was  there  an  inn  ? ” we  asked. 

Well,  there  was  something  that  would  do  for  an 
inn,  and  driving  us  into  a mud-yard,  we  were  bundled 
out  into  the  pouring  rain.  Much  argument  ensued. 
It  was  evident  that  there  was  no  room  for  us  any- 
where. But  they  were  willing  to  do  what  they 
could. 

Seldom  have  guest-chambers  been  less  inviting. 
The  inner  half  of  the  stable,  in  which  a horse  stood 
munching  its  chopped  straw,  was  turned  into  a tem- 
porary bedroom,  and  the  landlord’s  family  vacated  a 
musty  though  gratefully  warm  apartment  in  our 
honour.  As  to  the  ten  women,  they  were  relegated 
to  a barn,  in  which  there  was,  at  all  events,  no  lack 
of  ventilation.  We  spread  our  supper  cloth  on  the 
brick  bed  and  ordered  basins  of  “ mi-t’ang,”  a kind 
of  water  gruel  made  of  millet  in  which  pieces  of 
pumpkin  floated  uninvitingly.  The  pumpkins,  by  the 

276 


China  as  I Saw  It 


way,  formed  part  of  the  furniture  of  my  bedroom, 
and  were  piled  up  tier  above  tier  in  goodly  array. 
The  walls  were  black  with  grease,  and  one  could  have 
planted  out  vegetables  in  the  mould  and  dust  col- 
lected on  the  floor  in  those  places  where  traffic  was 
suspended ! 

The  rain  fell  incessantly  all  night  and  half  the 
next  day.  When  we  finally  started  forth  once  more 
the  country  lay  half  under  water.  The  main  road 
had  quite  disappeared  ; and  this  not  only  on  account 
of  the  heavy  rains,  but  it  seemed  that  the  annual 
irrigation  of  the  fields  had  commenced,  and  as  the 
main  road  is  on  a distinctly  lower  level  than  the  fields, 
it  becomes  impassable  at  this  season  of  the  year.  We 
had  to  take  to  the  by-roads,  and  they  were  beset 
with  difficulties.  Time  and  time  again  we  stopped 
to  repair  a broken  bridge  before  we  could  venture 
across. 

The  Shansi  plain  in  this  mournful  weather  looked 
bleaker  than  ever.  Nothing  but  level  stretches  of 
half-fledged  fields  on  every  side,  now  and  then  a 
thinly  clad,  angular  elm  tree  or  a shivering  willow, 
and  nothing  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  scene  but 
an  occasional  mud  village — little  square,  flat-roofed 
houses  with  mud  walls,  few  doors  and  fewer  windows, 
huddled  round  a pond  of  slush ; the  only  difference 
between  a street  and  a road  being  that  the  mud  was 
considerably  deeper  in  the  former — so  deep,  indeed, 
that  one  did  not  wonder  that  there  was  nobody  about. 
Men  and  women  in  wadded  blue  cotton  garments 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


peered  out  of  the  doors  of  the  houses,  however,  to 
see  us  pass,  staring  at  us  meditatively  as  cows  might 
stare. 

There  were  few  other  travellers  on  the  road — a 
pack-mule  or  so,  an  occasional  hooded  cart,  and  that 
was  all ; but  once  or  twice  the  deep  bass  note  of 
camel  bells  drowned  the  feverish  tinkling  of  our  mule 
bells,  and  slowly,  silently,  like  creatures  in  a dream, 
gazing  with  uplifted  eyes  straight  in  front  of  them  at 
nothing  in  particular,  a long  procession  of  the  shaggy 
beasts  passed  by  in  single  file,  pressing  the  mud  down 
with  their  huge  padded  feet. 

We  only  did  ten  miles  that  day,  and  the  next  day, 
a Sunday,  stayed  at  Hsii-keo.  That  afternoon  we 
were  invited  to  dine  at  the  house  of  some  friendly 
neighbours.  The  dinner-hour,  by  the  way,  was 
between  three  and  four  ! Our  hostess  lived  with  her 
sons  and  her  sons’  wives  and  their  children  in  a large 
and  substantial  house,  built  in  pavilions  round  a 
flagged  courtyard.  After  drinking  tea  and  eating 
dates  preserved  in  wine  we  sat  down  to  dinner,  four 
guests  in  all,  whilst  our  hostess  and  her  daughter 
merely  put  their  heads  in  at  the  door  every  now  and 
again  to  see  how  we  were  getting  on  ! The  whole 
duty  of  the  guests  seemed  to  be  to  eat,  and  eat  largely, 
and  to  eat  silently,  and  to  do  nothing  else  but  eat, 
except  now  and  again  to  assist  in  the  transference  of 
morsels,  tempting  or  otherwise,  from  their  own 
basins  to  those  of  their  companions. 

On  Monday  we  started  again  in  our  quest  for  Ping 

278 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Yao.  The  rain  held  off,  but  the  mud  was  heavier 
than  ever.  In  spite  of  travelling  all  day  steadily,  we 
achieved  no  more  than  twenty  miles.  At  the  inn 
where  we  stopped  for  lunch  the  cook,  being  a Chris- 
tian, came  out  eagerly  to  wish  the  “ foreign  teachers  ” 
peace  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  pay  for  their 
food  ! 

That  night  we  were  in  luck’s  way,  and  instead  of 
having  to  put  up  at  a comfortless  inn,  were  received 
with  friendly  hospitality  by  the  Chinese  in  charge  of 
a China  Inland  Mission  out-station,  and  who  had 
been  expecting  us,  they  said,  for  days,  and  had  pre- 
pared a savoury  stew  and  a plate  of  “ mo-mo  ” 
(steamed  bread),  tasting  partly  of  dough,  partly  of 
putty. 

They  burnt  a few  sheaves  of  sorghum  stalks  in  the 
stove  under  the  “ keng,”  which  filled  the  room  with 
smoke  and  warmed  up  the  “ keng  ” for  us  to  sit  on 
and  afterwards  to  sleep  on. 

There  was  a sharp  frost  that  night.  Next  morning 
ice  lay  thick  on  the  puddles,  and  the  wind,  keen  and 
easterly,  blew  in  our  faces.  The  country  was  wind- 
swept and  deserted,  but  had  we  been  travelling  that 
way  a few  weeks  ago  we  should  have  met  a Thibetan 
army — in  other  words,  the  Dalai  Lama  on  his  way 
to  Peking  with  his  immense  following — hundreds  of 
mules  and  camels,  priests,  soldiers,  and  attendants. 
And  as  he  advanced  on  his  “ royal  progress  ” the  order 
went  forth  that  all  men  should  fall  on  their  faces  and 
do  homage  to  him  as  he  passed. 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


My  Ping  Yao  friends — Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.,  of  the 
China  Inland  Mission — were  on  their  way  back  from 
a country  journey  at  the  time  and  came  face  to  face 
with  the  lordly  Thibetan.  Naturally  they  made  no 
attempt  to  comply  with  the  command,  but  the 
soldiers,  perceiving  them  to  be  “ outside  Kingdom 
folk,”  offered  no  protest.  The  Dalai  Lama  and  his 
following  had  stayed  one  night  only  at  the  town  of 
Ping  Yao,  but  the  bill  for  that  night’s  expenses,  paid 
by  the  citizens,  came  to  nearly  four  hundred  pounds  ! 

At  a temple  outside  Tai  Yuen  his  visit,  of  some 
weeks’  duration,  had  considerably  impoverished  the 
local  treasury.  He  is  now  on  his  way  to  Peking.  The 
evil  doings  of  his  undisciplined  followers  have  left  a 
dark  trail  behind  him,  and  the  Dalai  Lama  himself 
was  not  blameless.  At  one  place  it  is  said  that,  seeing 
women  in  the  crowd  gathered  to  watch  him  pass 
(whereas  the  presence  of  women  had  been  forbidden), 
he  gave  orders  to  his  soldiers  to  beat  them  to  death  ; 
and  the  story  goes  that  the  order  was  carried  out 
then  and  there. 

Five  days  I have  stayed  at  Ping  Yao,  enjoying  the 
hospitality  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.  in  a house  which 
was  once  a camel  inn  and  is  still  surrounded  by  camel 
inns  (I  hear  the  deep  note  of  their  bells  as  they  pass 
in  the  night).  We  are  outside  the  west  gate  of  the 
city — the  open  country,  bare  and  treeless  and  ending 
in  hills,  looks  empty  and  desolate — and  often  as  the 
light  is  waning  one  can  see,  so  they  tell  me,  the 
sneaking  shadow  of  a wolf  seeking  for  prey. 

280 


China  as  I Saw  It 


No  one  would  think,  from  the  appearance  of  it,  that 
Ping  Yao  was  famous  for  its  wealth.  It  is  said  to  be 
the  richest  city  in  the  whole  province  and  is  a perfect 
nest  of  bankers.  To  quote  a familiar  saying  : “ Shansi 
men  love  gain,  but  do  not  value  their  lives  ! ” Their 
financial  ability  is  recognised  all  over  China.  Shansi 
bankers  have  found  their  way  not  only  into  the 
whole  of  the  eighteen  provinces,  but  through  into 
Central  Asia. 

Even  a pawnshop  hardly  hopes  for  success  without 
a Shansi  man  for  its  manager.  Pawnshops  are  great 
institutions  in  China — patronised  more  or  less  by  all 
classes.  There  are  three  grades,  and  the  top  grade 
numbers  those  in  high  places  amongst  its  clients,  and 
even  occasionally  is  called  upon  to  lend  money  to  the 
Government  ! The  banks,  by  the  way,  transmit 
messages  one  to  the  other  by  carrier  pigeons,  and 
with  great  success.  Pigeons  are  household  pets  over 
here.  The  ordinary  species  is  often  furnished  with  a 
whistle  attached  to  its  tail,  and  as  it  flies  the  wind 
blows  the  whistle. 

On  my  drives  in  hooded  carts  through  the  streets 
of  Ping  Yao  I look  in  vain  for  signs  of  its  wealth. 
Mud  seems  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  town.  The 
centre  of  the  road  is  wet  mud,  the  sides  of  the  road 
are  dry  mud  banked  up  seven  or  eight  feet  in  height. 
When  another  cart  comes  along — fortunately  this 
seldom  happens — one  or  the  other  has  to  climb  up 
the  bank  at  the  side  to  make  room.  Most  of  the 
shops  vie  with  each  other  in  keeping  their  goods  out 

281 


China  as  I Saw  It 


of  sight ; but  one  recognises  the  “ cash  ” shops,  of 
which  there  are  seventy  or  more,  by  the  long 
strings  of  copper  coins  dangling  from  the  roof.  The 
grander  places  of  merchandise  are  protected  from  too 
much  publicity  by  strips  of  black  cloth,  which  hang 
like  straight  blinds  across  the  upper  half  of  the  open 
front.  In  the  main  street  of  the  city  a three-storied, 
pagoda-roofed,  drum  tower,  one  mass  of  gorgeous 
colouring,  a blaze  of  enamelled  tiles,  blue,  green,  and 
scarlet,  and  woodwork  richly  painted  and  gilded, 
looks  as  out  of  place  as  a jewelled  throne  in  a farm- 
yard ! 

A Taoist  temple,  surrounded  by  buyers  and  sellers, 
barbers  and  fortune-tellers,  stands  near  the  east  gate 
of  the  city,  and  in  it  the  City  God,  a painted  wooden 
idol,  sits  enthroned.  I was  told  an  interesting  fact 
the  other  day  with  reference  to  idols.  When  a new 
one  is  made  it  is  sent  to  the  temple  for  which  it  is 
intended,  complete  in  every  detail  save  one — it  has 
no  eyes  ! and  until  these  are  added  it  is  a thing  of 
naught.  Just  as  soon,  however,  as  the  eyes  have  been 
put  in,  the  living  spirit  of  the  being  supposed  to  be 
represented  by  the  idol  enters  into  possession.  Once 
in  my  life,  and  only  once,  have  I seen  an  idol’s  “ soul,” 
a metal  pendant  made  up  of  tiny  models  of  interior 
organs — heart,  kidneys,  lungs,  etc.  These  are  all 
shaken  up  together  with  a living  fly,  and  as  the  fly 
suffers  martyrdom  its  life  passes  into  the  pendant 
and  becomes  an  idol’s  soul  ! 

Further  along  inside  the  east  wall,  in  striking  con- 

282 


China  as  I Saw  It 


trast  to  the  Taoist  temple,  stand  the  great  solemn 
buildings  of  the  Confucian  edifice,  opening  on  to 
a silent  court  planted  with  trees.  A rusty  key  was 
turned  for  me  in  a rusty  lock,  and  I entered  the 
“ sacred  ” precincts.  In  the  dim  light  one  could  just 
make  out  the  Confucian  tablet,  over  an  altar,  in  the 
centre  of  the  hall.  The  absence  of  idols,  and  of 
tawdry  symbols,  impresses  one  with  a sense  of  dignity 
in  these  Confucian  halls  ; but  the  lack  of  up- 
keep, the  dust  and  the  cobwebs,  the  general  air 
of  disuse,  are  always  apparent.  They  are  charac- 
teristic, these  temples,  of  the  doctrine  they  represent, 
the  high  ideals  and  excellent  theories  travestied  by 
the  empty  rites  and  ceremonies,  and  the  neglect  of 
all  those  precepts  which  happen  to  be  inconvenient. 
As  one  eminent  authority  has  said,  “ the  answer  to 
Confucianism  is  China.” 


I started  back  across  country,  taking  rather  a different 
route  to  the  one  I had  come  by,  and  wondering  how 
I should  get  on  now  that  I was  all  by  “ my  wild  lones,” 
and  had  not  even  a servant  in  attendance  ; but  it 
was  hoped  that  I should  arrive  that  night  at  Taiku, 
one  hundred  “ li  ” off,  where  Americans  were  living 
who  would  probably  take  pity  on  me  for  the  night, 
and  the  next  day,  all  being  well,  I should  catch  the 
one  train  of  the  day  at  Utsi  and  go  on  to  Tai  Yuen  Fu. 
I travelled  in  a hooded  cart  this  time,  harnessed  to  a 
couple  of  mules,  the  front  one  of  which  had  a way  of 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


going  off  on  its  own  account,  and  at  one  time,  when 
we  were  passing  through  a grove  of  trees,  it  got  its 
ropes  entangled  round  a trunk,  and  plunging  furiously, 
nearly  upset  the  whole  concern. 

As  the  day  closed  in  we  were  out  again  on  the  open 
plain,  and  still  far  from  Taiku.  The  moon  shone 
through  upon  us,  and  we  plodded  on  steadily  and 
silently.  In  order  to  keep  from  the  men  the  slender- 
ness of  my  Chinese  vocabulary  I refrained  from  any 
attempt  at  conversation,  and  for  hours  together  my 
companions  never  uttered  a syllable  except  an  occa- 
sional “ Te,  te,  te,”  or  “ Ueh,  iieh,  iieh  ” to  the 
mules. 

A few  months  ago  I should  not  have  thought  it 
possible  to  be  travelling  all  alone  with  a couple  of 
Chinese  carters  across  that  very  province  which  was 
blackened  by  the  cruellest  deeds  of  horror  in  1900. 
And  now  I am  here  nothing  could  be  more  peaceful, 
though  for  how  long  ? Nobody  knows,  but  meanwhile 
progress  is  the  order  of  the  day.  The  railway,  which 
now  goes  only  as  far  as  Tai  Yuen  Fu,  is  “ man  man 
tih  ” (later  on)  to  be  carried  through  the  province, 
and  Shansi  has  a great  future  before  it.  An  authority 
on  matters  of  the  kind  maintains  that  there  is 
enough  coal  in  Shansi  to  supply  the  whole  world 
for  thousands  of  years  ; probably  also  enough  iron 
as  well,  and  other  minerals  besides.  The  Imperial 
Government  is  at  last  taking  steps  on  its  own 
account  to  find  out  the  extent  of  its  riches. 
Whether  the  Azure  Dragon  and  the  White  Tiger  will 

284 


A SHANSI  CART 


China  as  I Saw  It 

still  interfere  with  mining  operations  remains  to  be 
seen. 

We  reached  Taiku  that  night. 

“ You  are  late  ! ” said  the  gate-keeper  of  the 
American  compound  as  he  flung  open  the  gates.  We 
drove  through  a bit  of  grass-land  and  drew  up  out- 
side a two-storied  foreign  house. 

Then  followed  a transformation  scene  from  the 
old  world  to  the  new.  The  curtain  fell  on  the  rough 
mule-cart  standing  forlornly  in  the  cold  moonlight 
outside  the  silent  walls  of  the  ancient  city,  and  rose 
on  a merry  little  supper-party  of  two  Americans  and 
myself  in  a cosy,  lamplit  American  room,  warmed  by 
a giant  American  stove. 

The  next  night  was  a sad  contrast.  I had  meant  to 
be  back  at  Tai  Yuen,  but  the  best-laid  plans  of  mice 
and  men  “ gang  aft  agley,”  and  I am  not  sure  that 
my  plans  either  were  so  particularly  well  laid.  I had 
seventy  “ li  ” to  do  over  indifferent  roads  or  no  roads 
at  all,  and  a train  to  catch  which  went  any  time 
between  four  and  six  ! 

At  one  o’clock  we  were  only  half-way,  halting  at 
a crowded  inn  for  the  mules  to  be  fed.  A young  man 
of  superior  class  espoused  my  cause,  and  helped  me 
explain  matters  to  the  carters  and  to  hurry  them  on. 
I ordered  hot  water  with  which  to  wash,  and  the  young 
man  produced  from  his  pocket  a capacious  coloured 
handkerchief  and  offered  it  for  a towel ! I thanked 
him  and  explained  I had  everything  I needed.  He  was 
determined,  however,  that  I should  accept  something, 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


and  forthwith  produced  a foreign  cigarette  case 
from  his  pocket  and  asked  if  I smoked.  Failing  in  that 
also,  he  fetched  a handful  of  “ English  lump  sugar  ” — 
a rare  sight  in  these  parts — and  to  gratify  him  I 
accepted  a couple  of  lumps,  and  clambered  back 
into  my  cart  eating  them.  I felt  like  some  Zoo- 
logical specimen  nibbling  at  sugar  through  the  bars 
of  my  cage,  while  an  admiring  crowd  stood  and 
watched. 

The  young  man  transgressed  all  rules  of  Chinese 
propriety  by  helping  me  into  the  cart  and  arranging 
the  rugs,  etc.  It  was  evident  that  somewhere  or 
other  he  had  seen  something  of  the  Westerners  and 
their  ways,  and  instead  of  feeling  contempt,  wished 
to  emulate. 

That  last  thirty-five  “ li  ” to  Utsi  was  the  most 
exciting  ride  I have  had.  The  mules  were  forced  into 
a trot.  I had  to  hold  on  with  both  hands  to  keep 
myself  from  being  pitched  against  the  side  of  the 
cart.  As  it  was,  I got  many  hard  knocks  and  painful 
jerks.  We  bounded  over  stones,  carried  away  bits 
of  walls  as  we  banged  round  corners,  and  almost  cap- 
sized into  deep  ruts  and  ditches.  Had  we  been  left 
to  ourselves  we  should  have  achieved  our  purpose, 
but  the  rule  of  the  road  in  this  land  of  opposites  is 
that  the  light  vehicles  give  way  to  the  heavy,  and  the 
nearer  we  got  to  Utsi  the  more  heavy  traffic  did  we 
meet.  Time  and  time  again  we  had  to  draw  up  and 
possess  our  souls  in  patience  while  a lumbering  bullock 
wagon  crawled  at  the  slow  pace  of  a reluctant  cat 

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China  as  I Saw  It 


along  a road  on  which  there  was  only  room  for  one 
vehicle  at  a time. 

As  to  the  streets  of  Utsi,  they  were  densely  blocked 
by  carts  and  wheelbarrows.  Imagine  trying  to  catch 
a train  under  these  circumstances ! Well,  we  missed 
it  by  five  minutes  and  had  to  wait  twenty-four  hours 
for  another  ! 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  to  an  inn.  I 
chose  one  just  outside  the  city  gates  and  near  the 
railway,  which  looked  promising,  and  asked  for  the 
best  room.  “ It  was  too  large  for  me,”  they  said  ; 
but  I insisted,  knowing  I should  have  to  pay  for  it  in 
any  case,  and  found  myself  finally  in  a spacious  apart- 
ment, with  two  big  “ kengs  ” and  a table. 

I ordered  “ hsi  fan  ” (wet  rice)  from  the  kitchen, 
and  supped  with  an  admiring  audience  looking  on. 
Then  I barred  the  door  with  its  wooden  bar — there 
are  no  locks  to  these  inn  doors  in  China,  at  least  I 
have  never  seen  any — and  made  up  my  bed  on  the 
“ keng,”  and  fell  asleep  to  the  sound  of  men  and  mules 
coming  and  going,  harnessing  and  unharnessing  in 
the  courtyard. 

Some  hours  later  I woke  with  a start  to  feel  a 
stealthy  footstep  creeping  over  me  with  the  soft, 
cautious  tread  of  a cat.  Fortunately,  when  I shook 
the  bedclothes  no  opposition  was  offered,  but  by  the 
scratching  and  scraping  sounds  on  the  other  side  of 
my  pillow  I realised  that  I had  fellow-companions  on 
the  “ keng  ” in  the  shape  of  rats.  I dared  not  light 
the  candle  for  fear  I might  see  more  than  I bargained 

287 


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for,  and  pulling  a knitted  shawl  over  my  head  and 
face  as  a precautionary  measure,  I fell  asleep  again. 

They  were  bold  creatures,  these  rats.  The  next 
day  I saw  first  one  and  then  another  taking  its  morning 
constitutional  quite  regardless  of  my  presence.  I 
complained  to  the  inn  servant.  He  smiled.  Those 
were  little  rats,  he  said,  and  of  no  consequence. 
They  had  large  ones  sometimes,  twice  the  size  of 
those  ! 

The  second  week  in  November  found  me  on  my 
way  back  to  Chefoo.  I had  intended  paying  another 
visit  to  Peking,  but  was  prevented  at  the  last  minute. 
Little  did  we  any  of  us  know  then  that  the  dreaded 
shadow  of  death  was  hovering  darkly  over  the  portals 
of  the  Forbidden  City. 

“ Le  garde  qui  vieille  aux  barrieres  du  Louvre 
N’en  defend  point  nos  roi.” 

On  the  15th  November  the  news  arrived. 

The  Emperor  of  China  is  dead  ! The  flags  are  at 
half-mast  and  the  Chinese  are  smiling.  They  tell 
the  news  one  to  the  other  and  smile  as  they  do  so. 
Not  because  they  are  rejoicing  over  the  evil  tidings, 
far  from  it,  but  the  fact  has  often  been  remarked 
that  at  the  sight  of  a coffin  and  at  the  mention  of 
death  the  faces  of  most  Celestials  will  lighten  with 
a smile.  Some  say  this  is  merely  the  effect  of  nervous- 
ness. One  wonders  whether  originally  it  was  a trick 
by  which  they  sought  to  deceive  the  gods.  By  feign- 
ing indifference  the  disembodied  spirits  might  pass 

288 


China  as  I Saw  It 


them  by.  When  witnessing  an  execution,  I am  told, 
they  clap  their  hands  and  laugh  in  order  to  frighten 
the  spirit  away.  Yet  with  strange  inconsistency  many 
of  these  very  people  will  go  provided  with  a piece  of 
bread,  and  when  the  head  is  severed  from  the  body, 
rush  forward  and  dip  the  bread  in  the  blood  and 
devour  it  greedily,  in  order  to  absorb  a little  of  the 
courage  and  daring  of  the  man  executed  ! 

This  morning  it  was  reported  that  the  Emperor 
was  dead,  and  this  evening  the  news  runs  that  the 
Dowager-Empress  has  died  also. 

The  Chinese  go  on  smiling. 

But  everybody  else  asks  what  has  happened. 

From  the  Chinese  point  of  view  the  matter  came 
about  quite  naturally.  The  Empress,  who  has  been 
suffering  from  dysentery,  or  so  it  is  said,  knew  that 
her  own  life  was  drawing  to  an  end,  and  simply  gave 
orders  to  the  court  physicians  that  the  Emperor’s 
death  should  precede  her  own. 

But  the  secret  has  been  well  kept,  and  the  silence 
of  death  lies  unbroken  behind  those  double  ramparts 
— “ d’un  rouge  de  sang  ” — of  the  Forbidden  City. 

With  these  two  royal  names  at  the  head  of  the  list 
the  death-roll  increases  rapidly. 

Report  goes  that  Yuan  sh'f  Kai,  probably  the  most 
powerful  official  in  China,  has  been  assassinated ; that 
Yuan  sh'i  Kai’s  household,  forty-one  persons  in  all, 
have  been  put  to  death  ; furthermore,  that  Prince 
Kalatchin  is  encamped  outside  the  gates  of  Peking 
with  thousands  of  Mongolian  troops,  that  malcontents 
u 289 


China  as  I Saw  It 


are  burning  down  houses  in  the  city,  and  that  Pu  Yi, 
the  Emperor’s  nephew,  a three-year-old  child,  has 
been  elected  heir  to  the  throne  by  the  deceased 
Empress. 

Meanwhile  the  Chinese  go  about  their  work  as 
usual,  displaying  no  interest  whatever  in  the  subject. 
Dubiousness  is  the  golden  rule.  It  is  held  to  be  un- 
lucky to  say  anything  for  certain,  and  to  announce 
the  bald  fact  that  the  Emperor  is  dead  would  be  the 
height  of  impropriety.  He  has  “ ascended  the  dragon 
throne  above  ” or  “ been  received  as  a guest  on  high,” 
if  you  like,  but  the  “ si  ” (dead)  must  not  be  used. 
I found  myself  saying  it  once  in  Tai  Yiien  Fu,  re- 
ferring to  a relation  of  my  own,  and  was  quickly  in- 
formed of  my  mistake.  I might  say  “ passed  over  ” 
or  “ gone  out  of  the  world,”  or  something  of  that 
kind,  but  never  “ s'i  ” (dead)  of  anyone  of  whom  I 
wished  to  speak  with  respect ! 

There  is  no  longer  any  doubt,  however,  that  both 
Emperor  and  Dowager-Empress  are  dead,  and  the 
whole  country  has  gone  into  mourning,  which  means 
that  the  red  buttons  of  the  men’s  caps  are  changed 
to  blue  buttons  or  white,  and  for  one  hundred  days 
all  men  must  desist  from  shaving.  Barbers,  mean- 
while, are  being  given  three  thousand  “ cash  ” a 
month  by  the  Government  in  compensation. 

The  rumours  from  Peking  have  died  down  like  a 
bonfire  from  lack  of  fuel.  Yuan  sh'f  Kai  and  his 
family  are  unharmed,  though  who  shall  say  for  how 
long  ? Pu  Yi,  the  baby  Emperor,  has  ascended  the 

290 


I 


China  as  I Saw  It 


throne,  or  “ divine  utensil  ” as  it  is  often  called,  under 
the  name  of  Hsiian  Tung,  and  issued  his  first  imperial 
decree  ! Honours  are  to  be  conferred  on  many  of  his 
subjects — nobles,  soldiers,  agriculturists,  and  so  forth 
— and  a button  of  the  seventh  rank  awarded  to  all 
over  one  hundred  years  old,  and  one  of  the  sixth  rank 
to  any  who  have  attained  the  age  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  ! The  Regent,  Hsiian  Tung’s  father,  is,  so 
they  say,  an  able  and  enlightened  man.  It  is  well 
that  he  is  so,  for  China  in  the  throes  of  a new  birth 
will  need  all  the  wisdom  she  can  get.  And  the 
anti-dynastic  parties  with  which  the  country  is 
riddled,  what  of  them  ? You  may  well  ask.  As  far 
as  one  can  make  out  they  are  smiling  like  the  rest,  but 
nobody  knows  what  they  are  thinking. 

At  Gankin,  on  the  Yangtse,  where  the  anti-dynastic 
feeling  is  especially  strong,  the  soldiers  have  mutinied, 
but  the  last  news  gives  out  that  the  rebellion  has  been 
quelled  and  the  ringleaders  beheaded. 

Through  the  northern  province  of  Shansi  a “ Luh 
peh  Li  Chi  ” (a  six  hundred  “ li  ” messenger)  was 
sent  from  Peking  to  the  various  cities  bearing  an 
imperial  command  that  all  revolutionaries  should  be 
beheaded.  These  “ Luh  peh  Li  Chi  ” are  recognised 
by  the  bundle  of  singed  feathers  stuck  in  a con- 
spicuous position  on  the  packet  of  despatches  which 
they  carry  on  their  backs.  They  go  for  six  hundred 
“ li  ” without  stopping.  All  city  gates  throughout 
the  empire  must  be  opened  at  any  hour  of  the  day 
or  night  to  let  them  through,  and  if  anyone  causes 

291 


China  as  I Saw  It 

delay  to  these  royal  messengers  they  can  be  instantly 
beheaded. 

Next  week  I hope  to  go  on  to  Nanking,  the  old  Ming 
capital  and  a hot-bed  of  anti-dynastic  societies  ; but 
the  country  is  perfectly  quiet,  say  the  foreigners,  and 
the  Chinese  say  nothing. 

Yours, 

V. 


292 


Nanking, 

December , 1908. 

The  Shanghai -Nanking  Railway,  opened  a few 
months  ago,  belongs  to  an  English  company,  and  seems 
up  till  now  to  have  won  favour  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Chinese.  It  goes  in  more  for  comfort  than  speed  ; one 
hundred  and  ninety  miles  from  Shanghai  to  Nanking 
in  nine  hours  can  hardly  be  called  quick  travelling, 
but  even  the  second-class  passenger  is  provided  with 
every  luxury.  Breakfast,  lunch,  dinner — anything 
you  like,  in  Chinese  style  or  foreign,  can  be  served  at 
any  time.  A newspaper  “ boy  ” patrols  the  train, 
and  at  short  intervals  cloths  steamed  in  boiling  water 
are  brought  round  with  which  to  wipe  one’s  face  and 
hands  ! 

Every  fifteen  minutes  or  so  we  drew  up  at  a brand- 
new  station — a miniature  house  with  a bright  red 
roof,  bright  green  shutters,  and  a white  paling  on  a 
tiny  platform — like  a thing  out  of  a box  of  toys,  and 
glided  on  again  through  long  level  tracts  of  highly 
cultivated,  highly  monotonous  country.  The  ever- 
lasting fields,  divided  the  one  from  the  other  by  strips 
of  brown  turf,  reminded  me  of  lengths  of  green  paper, 
ruled  and  lined,  and  the  lines  were  the  brown  turf. 

It  was  difficult  to  realise  that  this  was  China,  except 

293 


China  as  I Saw  It 


at  those  moments  when  the  great  black  wall  of  an 
invisible  city,  some  miles  in  extent,  blocked  one’s 
view  of  the  sky-line ; or  a pagoda  in  the  far  distance 
warned  one  of  the  “ Azure  Dragon  ” ; or  a buffalo 
dragging  a plough,  followed  by  a man  in  the  inevitable 
blue  cotton  cloth,  gave  a touch  of  characteristic  life 
and  colour  to  the  otherwise  desolate  scene. 

The  city  of  Nanking  has  a glorious  past  and  a great 
future,  but  rather  a meagre  present.  In  the  fourth, 
fifth,  and  sixth  centuries,  and  again  in  the  fourteenth, 
it  was  the  capital  of  China,  and  its  manufactures  of 
silk,  satin,  cotton,  rags — or  rather  paper — are  still 
held  in  such  great  repute  that  all  over  the  country 
articles  superior  in  workmanship  to  the  common  run 
are  spoken  of  as  “ coming  from  Nanking,”  though 
the  chances  are  that  they  have  never  been  near  the 
place. 

In  point  of  climate  Nanking  has  nothing  to  boast 
of.  It  lies  on  a plain  which  some  people  call  a half- 
drained  marsh.  One  hears  of  strange  maladies — a 
disease,  for  instance,  called  “ the  Sand,”  a species  of 
blood-poisoning  which  the  natives  cure,  or  pretend  to 
cure,  by  cicatrising  the  least  fleshy  parts  of  the  body 
with  a copper  “ cash.” 

I have  only  lately  realised  the  medicinal  properties 
of  a copper  “ cash.”  To  suck  one — steadily  and 
carefully — in  the  early  stages  of  cholera  will  prove  a 
sure  and  certain  remedy ! By  way  of  proof,  my  in- 
formant assured  me  that  cholera  was  wholly  unknown 
in  the  East  amongst  brass  and  copper-workers ! 

294 


China  as  I Saw  It 


It  was  a grey,  cold  winter’s  day  when  we  sallied 
forth  to  see  all  that  remains  of  Nanking’s  former 
glory — the  tomb  of  Hung  Wu,  the  Ming  Emperor. 
In  his  day  the  city  walls  were  thirty-five  miles  round. 
The  great  area  enclosed,  however,  was  by  no  means 
entirely  built  over,  and  in  the  time  of  the  Tai  Ping 
Rebellion  a large  part  of  the  old  city  was  utterly 
destroyed. 

We  passed  along  the  narrow  sunless  streets,  where 
people  huddled  up  in  wadded  garments  stood  around 
the  cheerless  little  dank,  dark  shops.  We  lingered  a 
moment  by  the  gateways  of  the  Viceroy’s  Yamen 
— fragile  structures  of  painted  wood,  like  signboards 
mounted  on  stilts — and  looked  in  at  the  crowd  that 
hummed  around  the  inner  gates — the  Chinese  soldiers 
in  Western  garb,  the  Western  carriages  in  Chinese 
garb,  the  merchants  in  silk  and  furs,  the  coolies  in 
blue  calico,  the  melancholy  ponies,  and  the  “ East 
Sea  Kingdom  chairs,”  as  rickshaws  are  called  in  the 
land  of  the  Celestials. 

We  crossed  the  Manchu  town  of  squat  little  grey 
houses  in  straight  rows  along  roads  planted  with 
trees,  and  came  to  that  scene  of  desolation — the  ruined 
city  of  a fallen  dynasty.  In  these  days  it  is  nothing 
but  a dreary  waste  of  broken  stones  and  crumbled 
walls,  a “ valley  of  dry  bones  ” blackened  by  age  and 
weather,  and  all  that  remains  of  the  imperial  palace 
of  the  Ming  Emperors  is  a grand  old  archway  falling 
into  decay,  but  still  imposing,  and  a solid  stone 
building  like  a farmer’s  granary,  in  which  the  re- 

295 


China  as  I Saw  It 


fractory  wives  used  to  be  imprisoned,  and  which — 
oh,  irony  of  fate — is  now  used  as  a gunpowder 
factory ! 

From  this  city  of  the  dead  and  gone,  over  which 
the  grey  shadows  of  death  are  creeping,  we  passed 
out  on  to  the  undulating  grass-land,  devoid  of  human 
habitations,  and  scanned  the  distance  in  search  of 
that  which  we  had  come  to  see — the  tomb  of  Hung 
Wu,  the  Emperor. 

But  there  was  no  sign  of  anything  to  break  the 
monotony  of  the  scene  save  a herd  of  donkeys  and 
their  eager  owners,  who  gathered  round  us,  making 
a formidable  barricade  of  their  animals  across  the 
path. 

“ Chi  go  Liitsze  Ba  ! ” * they  shouted  in  deafening 
chorus,  and  with  characteristic  persistence  a detach- 
ment of  them  accompanied  us  the  whole  way  in  the 
hope  of  scoring  a victory  in  the  end,  and  by  proffering 
information  at  the  right  moment  secured  a pro- 
prietary right  over  our  movements,  and  laid  us  under 
an  obligation  which  they  well  knew  would  be  fulfilled 
sooner  or  later. 

A mile  and  a half  across  the  plain  brought  us  to 
an  avenue  of  stone  animals — monster  camels,  ele- 
phants, lions,  and  some  queer  beast  which  the  donkey- 
boys  explained  was  a dolphin — all  ten  and  a half  feet 
high,  carved  out  of  solid  blocks.  They  were  in  double 
pairs — one  pair  kneeling,  the  other  standing — and  the 
avenue  culminated  in  a gigantic  stone  turtle  under  a 
* “ Won’t  you  have  a donkey  to  ride  ? ” 

296 


AVENUE  OK  STONE  ANIMALS,  NANKING 


China  as  I Saw  It 


roof,  bearing  on  its  back  a huge  tablet.  These  stone 
turtles  (creatures  doomed  to  spend  their  existence 
weighed  down  by  the  burden  of  heavy  tablets) 
are  called  by  the  Chinese  “ Pi  Ti,”  the  meaning 
of  the  word  being,  “ one  who  has  to  bear  much 
sorrow.” 

“ But  where,”  we  asked,  “ is  the  tomb  ? ” 

The  donkey-boys  indicated  the  barren  moorland 
hills  to  the  east  of  us.  We  made  our  way  in  that 
direction,  and  found  ourselves  passing  along  still 
another  avenue  of  stone  images — not  animals  this 
time,  but  giant  warriors  in  armour  guarding  the  way, 
standing  like  pillars  of  salt  on  the  plain  of  Sodom, 
and  ending  again  in  a stone  turtle,  roofed  over  and 
bearing  a tablet. 

On  the  top  of  a flight  of  steps  a deserted  temple, 
a hollow,  wind-swept  place,  containing  an  ancestral 
tablet  over  a da'fs,  made  us  think  we  must  have  arrived 
at  last. 

“ And  the  tomb  ? ” we  asked. 

Further  on,  they  said  ; and  descending  through 
paved  courtyards  and  through  temple  gates,  we  found 
ourselves  at  the  entrance  of  that  which  appeared  to 
be  a tunnel. 

The  donkey-boys  indicated  that  we  should  enter. 
A kind  of  subway  on  a steep  inclined  plane  led  us  out 
into  a ruined  building  on  a higher  level. 

“ And  where  is  the  tomb  ? ” we  asked. 

The  most  intelligent  of  our  companions  waved  his 
hand  majestically  towards  the  wooded  hill  rising 

297 


China  as  I Saw  It 


steeply  just  ahead  of  us,  and  entered  into  a voluble 
explanation  only  a few  words  of  which  did  we  under- 
stand. 

We  had  arrived — so  much  was  clear — and  later  on 
the  mystery  was  solved. 

For  some  strange  reason  the  burial-place  of  Hung 
Wu,  the  Emperor  who  died  more  than  five  hundred 
years  ago,  was  never  to  be  divulged. 

The  wooded  hill,  composed  of  soil  from  the  eighteen 
provinces  of  China — according  to  tradition — has  held 
its  secret  through  the  years.  All  those  who  assisted 
in  the  burial  ceremony  were  beheaded  then  and  there, 
in  order  that  none  should  ever  know  the  exact  spot 
of  the  imperial  tomb  ! 

In  later  days — as  short  a time  back  as  1901 — a 
different  method  was  resorted  to  in  order  to  ensure 
secrecy.  When,  after  the  Boxer  Rebellion,  enquiries 
were  set  on  foot  with  a view  to  the  punishment  of 
offenders,  the  miscreants  guarded  themselves  to  the 
best  of  their  ability  by  having  the  tongues  cut  out  of 
those  men  who  could  have  given  recriminating  evi- 
dence. 

The  Temple  of  Ten  Thousand  Gods  in  the  midst 
of  the  city,  built  twenty  years  ago,  was  a crude  con- 
trast to  the  ancient  ruins  of  Nanking.  Gilded  images 
of  the  Goddess  of  Mercy,  large  and  small,  but  mostly 
small,  were  there  in  their  thousands,  lining  the  walls 
from  floor  to  ceiling,  covering  the  roof,  resting  on  the 
beams,  swarming  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  like  a 
pest  of  gilded  locusts  held  spell-bound.  A young 

298 


STONE  FIGURES,  NANKING 


China  as  I Saw  It 


Buddhist  priest,  with  an  intellectual  face,  stood 
guard  over  them,  and  enquired  with  interest  where 
we  had  come  from. 

“ Our  unworthy  kingdom  is  England,”  we  answered. 

“ Ah  ! is  that  so  ? And  the  idols,  too,  come  from 
England  ! ” he  said,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  would 
pay  a compliment. 


At  Chinkiang,  two  hours  by  rail  from  Nanking  on 
the  way  back  to  Shanghai,  the  Grand  Canal  flows 
into  the  Yangtse,  and  at  Chinkiang  we  started  forth 
on  a steam  launch  to  the  city  of  Yangcheo.  The  only 
available  first-class  cabin  was  like  a large  egg-box. 
We  were  packed  into  it  with  a couple  of  bulky  Chinese 
in  wadded  silks  and  satins,  two  Chinese  ladies,  and  a 
child  the  shape  of  an  extenuated  bolster  in  its  padded 
garments.  The  tiny  slits  of  windows  were  too  high 
up  to  see  out  of,  there  was  no  room  to  open  the  door, 
and  to  intensify  the  discomfort  one  of  the  native 
ladies  coughed  ominously  with  a view  to  being  sea- 
sick. 

At  Yangcheo,  after  two  hours  in  the  “ egg-box,” 
excitement  became  intense.  The  rule  on  these 
occasions  seems  to  be,  “ Each  for  himself,  and  the 
d — 1 take  the  hindermost.”  Everybody  shouts  at 
once,  and  he  who  can  bawl  louder  than  his  fellow 
wins. 

Yangcheo  is  one  of  the  largest  cities  in  this  part  of 
China,  and  is  a favourite  place  for  retired  officials 

299 


China  as  I Saw  It 


and  merchants,  who  come  hither  and  fritter  their 
substance  away  in  idle  pleasures.  There  was  only  an 
apology  for  a landing-stage.  A greasy  plank  connected 
the  launch  with  a flight  of  slippery,  rickety  steps 
climbing  a steep  mud-bank.  On  the  steps  a howling 
mob  tried  to  board  the  launch  ; on  the  launch  a 
howling  mob  tried  to  board  the  steps  ! 

I had  forced  my  way  on  deck  in  order  to  “ keep 
an  eye  ” on  the  luggage,  and  found  myself  nearly 
pushed  overboard  by  two  combatants.  Below  stairs 
a still  fiercer  fight  was  going  on ; one  man  had  got 
another  down  and  was  jumping  wildly  on  his  chest, 
and  all  for  the  sake  of  a few  “ cash  ” of  “ wine  money  ” 
which  a passenger  had  declined  to  give  to  the 
“ steward.” 

Fortunately  a servant  had  been  sent  to  meet  us. 
We  saw  him  at  the  back  of  the  crowd  waving  an 
English  letter  as  a signal,  and  leaving  him  to  extricate 
our  luggage  as  best  he  could,  we  climbed  into  sedan- 
chairs  and  were  borne  swiftly  away  from  the  pande- 
monium on  the  shore — through  back  streets  silent 
and  vault-like,  winding  in  and  out  between  high 
walls,  till  we  came  to  the  busy  thoroughfares  hung 
with  shop-signs — red,  yellow,  black,  emerald  green, 
and  royal  blue — and  fantastic  lanterns — crimson  and 
gold — which  swayed  above  the  heads  of  stately 
Celestials  in  silk  and  fur,  stepping  ponderously  along, 
and  hurrying  coolies,  chanting  lustily,  bearing  heavy 
burdens  on  bamboo  poles,  and  keeping  time  with  their 
feet  to  the  see-sawing  tune  of  the  chant. 

300 


FIVE-ROOFED  BRIDGE  AT  YANGCHEO 


China  as  I Saw  It 


To  quote  a translation  I came  across  the  other  day 
of  some  Chinese  lines  : — 

“ Books,  drawings,  chess  and  music  with  odes  and 
wine  and  flowers, 

These  pleasures  seven  were  once  the  joy  of  rich 
men’s  leisure  hours  ; 

But  now  the  tune  of  life  is  pitched  to  a totally 
different  key, 

’Tis  only  fuel  and  rice  and  oil,  salt,  vinegar  sauces, 
and  tea ! ” 

And  to  these  one  should  add — “ and  the  opium  pipe 
and  the  dice.” 

Amongst  the  wealthier  classes  the  ladies  have  little 
or  no  education  and  no  useful  occupations,  and 
Yangcheo  apparently  shows  no  desire  to  emulate  other 
cities  of  China  in  the  pursuit  of  Western  learning. 
The  Yangcheo  people  go  on  in  their  old  way  absolutely 
content,  but  even  so  the  town  gives  one  the  impression 
of  prosperity.  The  main  streets,  seven  feet  wide,  are 
stirring  with  life  and  ablaze  with  colour.  Those  who 
can  afford  to  do  so  ride  in  sedan-chairs,  the  others 
patronise  the  wheelbarrow,  and  their  dignity  on  those 
occasions  was  my  “ envy  and  despair.”  I sat  on  the 
little  ledge  by  the  side  of  the  wheel  and  was  bumped 
ruthlessly  up  and  down.  My  coat  kept  trailing  in  the 
mud,  and  I had  to  hold  on  to  keep  from  falling  off 
as  we  rattled  over  the  broken  flagstones  and  tumbled 
in  and  out  of  ruts. 

The  smaller  streets  are  hardly  more  than  four  feet 
wide,  creeping  along  between  high  white  walls,  re- 
minding one  of  passages  in  a cellar. 

301 


China  as  I Saw  It 


The  Grand  Canal,  Yangcheo’s  link  with  the  outer 
world,  has  been  in  existence,  I suppose,  for  more  than 
six  hundred  years,  and  is  as  useful  now  as  ever  it  was. 
On  my  way  back  to  Chinkiang  I had  an  “ egg-box  ” 
to  myself,  and  could  see  all  there  was  to  be  seen  of 
the  mud-coloured  river  low  down  between  steep 
mud-coloured  banks,  on  the  top  of  which  every  now 
and  again  a row  of  peasants  showed  up  against  the 
ky,  towing  a haystack  floating  on  the  water,  which 
turned  out  on  closer  inspection  to  be  a cargo-boat 
filled  with  straw,  but  the  boat  itself  was  so  heavily 
laden  as  to  be  practically  invisible. 


302 


Hangcheo, 

January , 1909. 

We  are  on  our  way  to  one  of  the  two  cities  of 
China.  According  to  a Chinese  proverb  : “ Heaven 
is  above  and  Hangcheo  and  Sucheo  lie  below.”  The 
Hangcheo  train,  as  they  call  it,  from  Shanghai  to 
Hangcheo,  consists  of  a number  of  passenger  barges 
strung  together,  one  behind  the  other,  and  towed 
by  a small  steam-launch.  The  boats  are  provided 
with  cabins  of  the  nature  of  fowl-houses.  You 
struggle  into  them  through  a door  about  three 
feet  high,  and  plunge  down  a steep  ladder  into  their 
darksome  depths.  Most  of  them  contain  two  berths 
on  either  side  and  a table  across  the  end.  On  the  roof 
of  the  cabins  the  third-class  passengers  “ roost.” 
They  sit  huddled  up  in  their  wadded  clothes  like  hens 
on  a perch  with  their  feathers  fluffed  out,  and  eye  us 
solemnly,  much  as  a row  of  hens  would  turn  suspicious 
eyes  on  intruders. 

Gliding  down  the  Sucheo  creek  into  the  Huang  Pu 
River  on  that  winter’s  evening  we  saw  Shanghai  in  a 
new  light.  Hovels  of  the  Middle  Ages,  with  gilded 
shop-signs  and  crimson  lanterns,  side  by  side  with 
European  buildings  crude  and  gigantic,  picturesque 

303 


China  as  I Saw  It 


junks  with  tawny  sails  and  gorgeously  painted  wood- 
work, and  modern  gunboats  and  merchant  steamers 
plain  and  solid — the  old  and  the  new  “ smudged  ” 
together  into  one  glorious  “ Turneresque  ” picture 
of  a fiery  sunset  smouldering  ’midst  clouds  of  smoke, 
and  smoke-like  clouds  in  sky  and  water. 


For  twenty-four  hours  we  must  travel  in  this 
Hangcheo  “ train,”  a good  eight  hours  of  which, 
however,  have  been  absorbed  by  the  night.  The 
“ fowl-house  ” proves  a more  comfortable  room 
than  we  anticipated,  and  Wu  Ma,  our  new  servant, 
attends  carefully  to  all  our  wants. 

It  is  a cold,  sunless  day ; the  wind  shivers  through 
the  leafless  trees  on  the  banks  of  the  Grand  Canal, 
into  which  we  have  now  found  our  way.  It  is  more 
picturesque  here  than  it  was  near  Yangcheo,  and 
meanders  along  past  banks  studded  with  orchards  of 
mulberry  trees,  bare  now  and  scraggy,  varied  by 
clumps  of  fir  and  bamboo  thickets.  Now  and  again 
a large  grey  stone  “ Noah’s  ark  ” crops  up  unexpectedly 
on  the  bank,  and  turns  out  to  be  a grave.  At  fairly 
frequent  intervals  a village  comes  in  sight.  The 
clustering  houses  look  down  long  flights  of  steps  into 
the  water.  The  most  striking  feature  of  the  place  is 
usually  a stone  bridge,  rising  high  in  the  centre  and 
towering  above  the  low  white  plastered  buildings  on 
the  shore. 

The  Hangcheo  “ train  ” is  long  and  unwieldy,  and 

3°4 


China  as  I Saw  It 


every  now  and  then  its  tail  gets  jammed  against  a 
bridge,  or  hung  up  round  a corner.  It  is  dark  before 
we  arrive,  and  too  late,  according  to  VVu  Ma,  to  get 
into  the  city  that  night. 

Hangcheo  you  must  know  has  gone  one  better  than 
its  rival  city  of  Sucheo  and  has  started  the  first 
genuinely  Chinese  railway  in  the  whole  of  China 
— financed  by  the  Chinese,  built  by  the  Chinese, 
and  run  by  the  Chinese.  True,  at  present  it  only 
runs  for  a few  miles,  but  it  calls  itself  by  the  name 
of  the  province,  and  means  to  do  great  things  in 
the  future.  Its  ways  are  peculiar  to  itself.  When 
the  train  is  sufficiently  full  it  starts  off,  irrespective 
of  the  fact  that  the  appointed  hour  on  the  time-table 
has  not  yet  arrived,  and  on  one  occasion  an  ardent 
passenger  was  considerably  baffled  by  hearing  that 
the  train  would  not  run  that  day  because  there  were 
so  few  people  ! It  is  said  that  the  “ Company  ” is 
feathering  its  own  nest,  that  instead  of  paying  hand- 
somely for  the  land,  they  more  or  less  commandeered 
it — “ bought  ” a good  deal  more  than  they  needed 
and  are  selling  it  at  a profit. 

We  amused  ourselves  reading  the  notices  put  up  in 
English  and  Chinese  in  the  carriages. 

“ Only  -petty  things  and  hand-baggage  are  allowed 
— and  people  who  are  dirty,  sick,  mad,  or  drunken 
are  not  to  be  admitted,”  and  so  forth. 

The  train  landed  us  outside  the  city  gates,  but 
report  goes  that  ere  long  the  sacred  precincts  of  the 
city  itself  are  to  be  invaded  by  the  “ iron  road  ” and 
x 3°5 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  “ fire  carriage,”  which  proves  how  “ advanced  ” 
Hangcheo  has  become. 

You  would  be  amused  to  see  our  dwelling-place — 
a suite  of  half -furnished  rooms  over  a boys’  school, 
and  the  school  is  in  charge  of  a native  pastor  who, 
with  his  wife  and  family,  live  in  the  adjoining  house, 
and  who  treat  us  in  some  measure  as  their  own  guests. 
I welcome  the  fact  that  we  are  not  absolutely  staying 
with  them  in  their  own  abode.  They  are  kindness 
itself  ; but  as  the  greatest  politeness  a Chinese  hostess 
can  show  her  guest  is  to  share  her  room  with  her  at 
night,  I think  we  are  more  comfortable  as  we  are. 
We  have  brought  with  us  all  that  is  necessary — 
bedding,  washing  basins,  cooking  utensils,  and  foreign 
food  and  foot-stoves,  and  Wu  Ma,  for  a penny 
or  so,  has  purchased  himself  a thing  made  of  burnt 
clay  called  a wind-stove,  on  which  he  does  our 
cooking. 

Fortunately  we  are  out  a good  deal,  otherwise  we 
might  find  the  unceasing  din  of  the  recitations  in 
the  schoolroom  below  stairs  a little  trying.  Between 
us  and  the  boys  we  have  only  a few  slender  planks  of 
wood  somewhat  cracked  and  decayed.  Soon  after 
daybreak  they  start  their  Herculean  task — learning  by 
heart  and  out  loud  a series  of  text-books,  beginning, 
probably,  with  the  Trimetric al  Classic , continuing 
with  the  Century  of  Surnames,  going  on  with  the 
book  of  the  thousand  characters  and  the  odes  for 
children,  Ten  Canons  of  Filial  Duty,  and  the  Juvenile 
Instructor.  Picture  a dozen  boys  or  more,  each  learn- 

306 


WESTERN  LAKE,  II ANGCHEO 


China  as  I Saw  It 


ing  his  own  lesson  out  loud,  some  shouting  in  the 
treble,  some  shouting  in  the  bass,  some  declaring, 
“ All  men  at  the  beginning  have  a virtuous  nature,” 
others  chanting,  “ If  one  does  not  learn,  one  is  in- 
ferior to  animals  and  insects,”  and  a third  section 
droning  forth,  “ Humanity,  justice,  propriety,  wisdom, 
and  truth,  these  five  cardinal  virtues  are  not  to  be 
confused.”  * 

We  presume  they  must  have  stopped  sometimes 
for  meals,  but  the  interval  was  hardly  noticeable. 

Hangcheo,  renowned  for  its  beauty  by  writers  old 
and  new,  is  a city  of  white- walled  buildings  massed 
around  the  “ Hill  of  the  Golden  King  ” on  the  shores 
of  enchanted  seas.  The  hill  is  wooded  from  base  to 
summit  and  crowned  by  a Buddhist  temple.  Look- 
ing down  from  its  heights  over  the  wide  expanse 
of  houses  stretched  out  on  the  flat,  one  is  irresistibly 
reminded  of  some  gigantic  bed  of  mushrooms,  by  the 
white  walls  and  black  roofs  pressed  closely  together, 
the  white  predominating.  Out  to  the  west  the  wonder- 
ful Western  Lake  (said  to  be  twelve  miles  round)  lies 
asleep  amongst  shadowy  blue  hills,  and  in  front  of  us, 
hardly  more  than  a mile  away,  an  open  stretch  of 
sky  and  haze  betokens  the  sea 

Our  “mushroom  beds”  turned  into  noisy  streets. 
We  rode  through  them  in  sedan-chairs,  and  our 
chair-bearers,  racing  through  the  crowd,  kept  up 

* These  are  the  books  used  in  an  ordinary  Chinese  school.  Prob- 
ably, in  the  case  of  the  Hangcheo  scholars,  Western  literature  played 
a part  in  the  curriculum. 


307 


China  as  I Saw  It 


a continuous  shout,  calling  to  the  people  to  make 
room  for  us  to  pass.  There  is  no  rumbling  of  vehicles 
or  tramp  of  horses  in  these  busy  Chinese  thorough- 
fares, but  the  loud,  excited  voices  of  the  people, 
the  thud,  thudding  of  drums,  beating  of  gongs,  and 
rattling  of  rattles  keep  up  an  incessant  din.  Most 
of  the  street  pedlars  have  an  instrument,  either 
musical  or  unmusical,  a bell,  gong,  or  rattle,  by  which 
they  announce  their  presence. 

In  the  midst  of  them  all  a woman  ran  through 
the  crowd,  tears  streaming  down  her  face,  crying 
in  agony,  with  a child’s  clothes  in  her  arms.  “ Come 
home,  come  home  ! ” she  shrieked,  and  called  the 
words  piteously  again  and  again.  Her  child  must 
be  dangerously  ill,  they  told  us,  probably  lying  in  a 
state  of  unconsciousness,  and  she,  thinking  his  soul 
had  escaped,  was  seeking  for  it  through  the  city, 
calling  it  eagerly  to  return  to  its  owner,  and  the 
clothes  were  a kind  of  bait! 

Arrived  on  the  shore  of  the  Western  Lake  we 
stepped  into  a gilded  barge  and  glided  forth  on  the 
enchanted  sea — so  clear  was  the  water,  hardly  more 
than  two  feet  deep,  and  the  wooded  mountains 
girding  the  shores  solemnly  viewed  themselves  in 
the  crystal  mirror.  At  certain  seasons  of  the  year 
the  glossy  green  of  the  camphor  trees  mingling  with 
the  purple  leaves  of  the  tallow  and  the  dark  foliage 
of  the  “ arbor  vitae  ” make  a glorious  setting  to  this 
inland  sea. 

On  a tree-clad  headland  the  “ Tower  of  the  Thun- 

308 


TOWER  OF  THE  THUNDERING  PEAK,  HANGCHEO 


China  as  I Saw  It 


dering  Peak  ” stands  in  majestic  solitude,  just  as  it 
stood  more  than  a thousand  years  ago,  when  Suchuen 
the  beautiful  was  imprisoned  beneath  its  walls. 
One  hundred  and  twenty  feet  high,  it  is  an  almost 
solid  block  of  masonry,  chipped  and  crumbling  a 
little  with  time,  but  still  good  for  many  years  to 
come  ; fortunately  so,  say  the  geomancers.  In  the 
lonely  glades  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  a silent  temple 
presides  over  graves  without  number,  and  in  tiny  rows 
of  white-walled  houses  coffins  are  mouldering  with 
the  years.  From  the  shores  of  the  dead  and  gone 
our  boat  drifted  across  the  silvery  water  to  a lotus 
island.  Over  the  lotus  ponds  a serpentine  bridge  of 
carved  stone  winds  in  and  out,  covering,  perhaps, 
half  a mile  of  ground.  A Confucian  temple  and  a 
famous  garden  of  elusive  paths  hiding  amongst 
rockwork  are  the  sights  of  the  lotus  island,  and  out 
in  the  water  of  the  lake  close  by  grey  stone  pillars 
of  ancient  date  are  held  in  great  veneration,  and 
worshipped  by  the  Hangcheo  officials  on  the  fifteenth 
day  of  the  eighth  moon. 


Six  hundred  years  or  so  ago  Hangcheo  was  the 
capital  of  China.  The  blood-red  walls  of  the  old 
imperial  palace  are  still  mirrored  in  the  waters  of 
the  lake,  but  on  the  “ sacred  ” shores  below  the  great 
pagoda  which  “ controls  ” the  literary  influences  of  the 
city,  and  side  by  side  with  the  very  pagoda  itself,  the 
houses  of  the  Western  “ barbarians  ” have  doubtless 

3°9 


China  as  I Saw  It 


in  their  time  created  discord  between  the  “ Azure 
Dragon  ” and  the  “ White  Tiger.”  But  now  the  old 
and  the  new  live  together  in  harmony ; and  Hangcheo 
stands  in  the  front  ranks  of  the  progressive  army. 
The  sanatorium  by  the  side  of  the  pagoda  and 
the  leper  hospital  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  are  off- 
shoots of  the  great  medical  work  started  in  a small 
way  some  years  ago  by  an  English  doctor,  and 
now,  thanks  to  his  untiring  energy  and  marvellous 
ability,  the  one  small  original  house  has  been  trans- 
formed into  great  buildings,  a hospital  for  men, 
another  for  women,  a medical  college  for  the  train- 
ing of  native  doctors,  a convalescent  home,  and  so 
forth. 

In  the  city,  at  the  present  time,  properly  qualified 
medical  men,  who  owe  their  training  to  these  Western 
hospitals,  are  engaged  in  practice  amongst  their  own 
countrymen.  The  Chinese  are  said  to  be  especially 
able  surgeons,  and  the  doctors  trained  in  foreign 
schools  are  much  in  request ; but  prejudice  dies 
hard.  If  the  case  goes  badly  the  patient  will  often 
insist  on  calling  in  quack  physicians  as  a last 
resource,  and  that,  as  a rule,  is  the  end  of  all 
things. 

Native  methods  sound  ludicrous  to  Western  ears, 
but  in  some  diseases  native  treatment  is  curiously  effec- 
tive. As  to  the  drug  shops,  their  name  is  legion,  and 
some  of  their  wares  are  excellent.  I would  recommend 
centipedes,  for  instance,  soaked  in  oil  in  the  case  of 
a burn,  and  for  a tonic — elephant  hide  planed  off  into 

310 


China  as  I Saw  It 


thin  strips.  Moreover,  there  is  a preparation  of 
rats  said  to  be  most  beneficial  when  one’s  hair  is 
coming  out,  and  pounded  bones  and  animals’  teeth 
are  all  useful  in  their  way,  to  say  nothing  of  armadillo 
scales  used  for  scratching  an  irritable  place.  Amongst 
native  prescriptions  some  doubtless  are  of  great 
value,  and  a wide  field  of  research  stands  open  to 
the  student  of  chemistry  who  is  also  versed  in  the 
intricacies  of  the  language. 

In  China  the  soul  is  thought  to  reside  in  the  liver, 
the  emotions  in  the  pit  of  the  stomach,  and  thoughts 
come  from  the  lungs.  The  brain  seems  of  no  con- 
sequence whatever,  but  the  right  kidney  is  called  the 
“ gate  of  life.”  A native  doctor  has  to  rely  chiefly 
on  the  pulse  for  his  diagnosis,  and  in  the  case  of  a 
female  patient  a bamboo  screen  blocks  his  vision. 
First  the  left  wrist  and  then  the  right  are  put 
forth  for  his  inspection.  There  are  three  points  in 
each  pulse  pregnant  with  meaning.  A light  pres- 
sure in  one  case  reveals  the  state  of  the  stomach, 
and  a heavy  pressure  the  condition  of  the  spleen, 
and  so  on  through  the  different  internal  organs. 

I have  been  told  that  the  Dowager-Empress  was 
attended  of  late  years  by  a French  physician,  who, 
however,  never  saw  her  face  to  face,  but  was  permitted 
to  feel  her  pulse. 

Post-mortem  examinations  are  practically  impossible 
in  China ; the  people  have  an  unspeakable  dread  of 
passing  into  the  next  world  in  a mutilated  con- 
dition. Even  a dentist  (over  here)  must  give  back 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  teeth  he  has  extracted,  and  their  owner  preserves 
them  carefully  against  the  day  of  his  burial.  Talking 
of  teeth  reminds  me  of  the  Lanchi  woman  dentist, 
but  I am  coming  to  that  later  on. 

We  travelled  to  Lanchi  by  the  Tsien  Tang  River, 
which  flows  within  a mile  of  Hangcheo.  “ You  won’t 
like  it,”  they  all  said  ; “ the  boats  are  the  worst  in 
China,  and  at  this  time  of  the  year,  when  winds 
are  strong,  you  will  probably  take  seven  days  getting 
as  far  as  Lanchi.” 

But  the  prophets  were  wrong. 

True,  there  was  a tearing  wind,  but  it  blew  behind 
us  and  helped  us  on  our  way  ; and  as  to  the  boats, 
they  were  covered  with  a matting  roof  arched  over 
from  side  to  side,  and  were  not  so  unlike  our  “ wu  pan  ” 
on  the  Yangtse,  except  that  (and  therein  lies  the  chief 
discomfort)  the  arched  roof  was  open  at  either  end, 
making  a channel  for  the  wind,  and,  as  Deborah  aptly 
remarked,  on  the  occasion  of  our  first  meal — “ it  was 
like  sitting  down  to  dinner  in  a draughty  tunnel.” 
At  this  time  of  the  year  the  wind  is  glacial.  For 
warmth  and  privacy  only  one  thing  was  possible, 
namely  a four-sided  curtain,  made  like  a small  tent, 
to  cover  over  each  bed,  and  fortunately  we  had  brought 
these  with  us. 

When  too  cold  to  stand  the  wind  in  the  tunnel 
any  longer  we  retired  to  our  respective  tents,  and  sat 
cross-legged  on  silken  divans  like  Arabian  princesses, 
waited  on  by  the  attentive  Wu  Ma,  who  served  us 
up  dainty  meals  on  improvised  tables,  brought  us 

3*2 


China  as  I Saw  It 


basins  of  hot  water  to  wash  in,  and  filled  our  foot- 
stoves  with  glowing  charcoal . Occasionally  we  emerged 
and  looked  at  the  view.  We  were  being  swept  on  by 
the  winds  along  a winding  river  of  reseda  hue,  be- 
tween the  wooded  hills,  feathery  bamboo  groves 
darkened  by  clumps  of  pine,  to  a shadowy  land  where 
mountains  veiled  in  blue  gauze  faded  into  clouds. 
The  men  put  up  the  sail  and  rested  on  their  oars, 
except  at  those  moments  when  the  rushing  sound 
of  many  waters  warned  them  of  the  approach  of  a 
rapid.  Then,  filling  the  air  with  fiendish  yells, 
they  pressed  the  oars  forward  with  their  bodies, 
as  being  probably  more  efficacious  than  their  hands, 
bending  almost  double  in  their  exertions,  and  then 
suddenly,  as  though  by  magic,  the  shouts  and  the 
splashing  of  the  waves  ended  in  silence,  the  captain 
got  out  his  pipe  with  a smile,  nobody  said  a word, 
but  one  felt  that  a sense  of  relief  had  fallen  on  the 
company. 

Thanks  to  the  gale  sweeping  us  on  we  did  a 
record  journey,  three  hundred  and  sixty  “ li  ” in 
three  days,  and  Lanchi,  with  its  white-walled 
houses  huddled  together  by  the  waterside  like  a 
frightened  flock  of  sheep,  lay  before  us.  A long 
flight  of  slimy  wooden  steps  led  up  the  steep  mud- 
bank  on  the  shore,  and  the  city  gates  standing 
on  the  top  of  a second  flight  looked  as  though  they 
had  just  drawn  back  in  time  to  prevent  themselves 
from  falling  over  into  the  water. 

Our  friend  of  Lanchi — Ba  Kiaotsi,  as  VVu  Ma 

313 


China  as  I Saw  It 


called  her — came  down  the  steps  to  meet  us.  She 
was  the  only  Westerner  in  the  whole  city  just  at 
that  time,  and  so  well  known  and  highly  thought 
of,  that  with  her  for  a guide  we  felt  that  the  people 
who  thronged  to  look  at  us  in  the  streets  eyed  the 
“ foreign  barbarians  ” with  less  contempt  than  usual. 
The  mud  lay  an  inch  or  more  thick  on  the  steps 
climbing  up  to  the  city  gates,  and  flooded  in  a stagnant 
stream  the  narrow,  arcade-like  streets.  The  sky 
was  practically  non-existent,  and  instead  of  it,  gay 
lanterns  of  poppy  red,  resplendent  shop-signs,  black 
and  gold  and  royal  blue,  inscribed  with  gilt  lettering, 
made  one  long  blaze  of  colour  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  The  reds  and  golds  of  the  oranges  and  pu- 
melos,  the  scarlet  chillies  and  crimson  “ iang-mei,” 
the  clothes  shops,  in  which  brocaded  gowns  in  purple, 
amethyst,  blue,  and  imperial  yellow  were  suspended 
like  gay  banners  from  aloft,  the  copper-ware  burnished 
and  beautiful,  and  the  stately  drug  stores,  the  finest 
of  all  in  outward  appearance,  and  with  no  apparent 
stock-in-trade,  save  a few  handsome  jars  of  delicate 
porcelain — all  played  a part  in  the  wonderful  scheme 
of  colour.  Once  or  twice  the  crowd  pressed  too 
closely  on  our  heels.  The  mild  remark,  “ I fear 
your  parents  died  too  early,”  made  in  polite  tones, 
instantly  dispersed  the  aggressors ! They  had  “ lost 
face  ” in  the  eyes  of  the  crowd,  who  laughed  at  their 
discomfiture.  We  passed  a shaven  Buddhist  priest, 
in  his  grey  gown,  who  was  accumulating  merit  in  the 
next  world  by  going  down  on  his  knees  every  few 

314 


China  as  I Saw  It 


minutes  in  the  black  slime,  and  a little  further  on 
at  a street  corner  a woman  dentist  stood  awaiting 
custom.  She  wore  a chop-stick  in  her  hair,  the 
sign  of  her  trade.  By  clever  manipulation  of  a 
decayed  tooth  with  the  chop-stick  she  extracts  a 
tiny  worm,  of  the  nature  of  a maggot,  whereupon 
the  sufferer,  relieved  of  pain,  goes  away  rejoicing. 
How  the  worm  is  produced  nobody  knows.  I imagine 
the  same  worm  has  to  officiate  on  all  occasions. 
But  far  more  curious  than  the  worm  treatment  is 
some  extraordinary  drug  used  in  the  form  of  a 
powder  by  a native  dentist  of  the  neighbourhood. 
When  well  rubbed  into  the  gum  of  a decayed  tooth 
it  so  loosens  the  fangs  that  they  practically  come  out 
of  their  own  accord. 

Nobody  knows  what  the  drug  can  be,  and  it  is 
said  that  the  use  of  it  has  a harmful  effect  on  the  rest 
of  the  teeth. 

Leaving  the  streets  behind  us,  we  passed  out  amongst 
the  graves.  On  some  of  the  grass-grown  mounds  a 
handful  of  white  lime  had  been  placed  by  those  who 
were  doing  good  deeds  with  a view  to  the  next  world 
and  worshipping  at  the  graves  of  those  who  had  no 
belongings  of  their  own.  Here  and  there  we  came 
across  an  unburied  coffin,  but  the  lime  and  charcoal 
with  which  it  was  partly  filled  prevented  any  in- 
sanitary odour. 

We  climbed  the  hillside,  which  later  on  will  be 
covered  with  azaleas  and  lilies,  and  gathered  a few 
violets  and  looked  down  over  the  surrounding  country 

3i  5 


China  as  I Saw  It 


— the  city  of  Lanchi,  far  below  us,  the  white  patches 
of  the  many  walls  reminding  one  of  some  gigantic 
washing-ground,  in  which  white  sheets  were  spread 
out  to  dry.  Beyond  it  the  Tsien  Tang  River,  cold 
and  grey,  branching  out  into  a fork  just  above  the 
town,  meandered  away  between  wide  sandy  shores 
round  the  foot  of  the  hills. 

Descending  by  steps  worn  to  the  smoothness  of 
ice  by  many  generations  of  feet,  we  looked  in  at  the 
temple  of  the  “ King  of  Hell,”  a dreary,  neglected 
place,  with  dust  instead  of  paint  on  the  wooden  images 
and  on  the  doors  and  the  pillars.  Strange  shadowy 
images  peopled  the  nooks  and  corners,  the  remnants 
of  the  idols.  There  is  a project  on  foot  to  subscribe 
five  thousand  dollars  towards  the  renovation  of  this 
dismal  abode.  The  authorities,  however,  are  not 
at  one  in  the  matter.  There  are  some  who  wish  the 
money  to  be  given  to  our  friend  Ba  Kiaotsi  for  the 
establishment  of  an  opium  refuge.  The  question 
has  yet  to  be  decided,  but  Ba  Kiaotsi  thinks  the 
“ King  of  Hell  ” will  win. 

Our  hostess’s  medical  knowledge  has  won  her 
fame  in  every  part  of  Lanchi.  She  took  me  with 
her  to  the  house  of  one  of  her  patients,  the  wife  of 
a mandarin.  Former  experiences  of  wealthy  Chinese 
mansions  have  taught  me  that  the  more  one  expects, 
the  less  one  will  probably  find.  From  the  narrow 
street  of  black  mud  and  closely  packed  houses  we 
stepped  through  palatial  gates  into  a dirty  outer 
courtyard,  where  an  orange  stall  was  set  up.  We 

316 


China  as  I Saw  It 


passed  from  courtyard  to  courtyard,  the  inner  ones 
cleaner  than  the  outer,  occasional  pots  of  flowers 
and  bits  of  rockwork  suggesting  a garden.  One- 
storied buildings,  like  so  many  pavilions,  surrounded 
the  courtyards  and  formed  the  living-rooms  of  the 
six  sons  and  their  wives,  and  doubtless  of  many  other 
relations  as  well. 

We  were  invited  through  to  the  bedroom  of  the 
little  “ Tai  Tai,”  the  wife  of  the  sixth  son,  whom 
Ba  Kiaotsi  had  come  to  see. 

It  was  a narrow  room  built  like  a long  passage,  and 
seemed  literally  packed  with  women ; how  many 
were  “ Tai  Tai’s,”  how  many  were  merely  attendants, 
it  was  at  first  difficult  to  make  out. 

I discovered  the  patient  to  be  the  minute  lady 
with  thickly  powdered  face  and  immaculately  dressed 
hair,  who  was  sitting  at  a table  placed  against  the 
wall,  feeding  herself  with  her  chop-sticks  from  a 
variety  of  tiny  basins  full  of  savoury  chopped  meats 
and  gravies,  and  displaying  an  appetite  uncommonly 
good  for  an  invalid. 

I am  told  that  one  of  the  few  things  about 
Westerners  that  the  Chinese  really  admire  is  the  way 
in  which  a family  party  can  sit  down  to  dinner  and 
partake  of  the  same  dishes  without  discord. 

In  a Chinese  family  each  member  likes  his  own 
vegetables,  pickles,  sauces,  etc.,  and  each  requires 
something  different  to  the  others.  We,  the  Westerners, 
they  say,  have  more  crockery  on  our  tables,  but  they, 
the  Chinese,  have  more  food. 

317 


China  as  I Saw  It 


The  invalid  with  the  chop-sticks  looked  listless 
and  disinclined  to  talk.  It  appeared  to  me  the  ser- 
vants did  most  of  the  conversation,  and  to  my 
surprise,  nobody  asked  me  my  honourable  age  and 
the  number  of  my  sons.  All  interest  was  centred 
in  my  clothes,  which,  of  course,  I explained  were 
“ contemptible  foreign  things  ” and  came  from 
“my  unworthy  country,  England.”  The  “ Tai  Tai” 
quite  brightened  up  over  the  question  of  the  clothes, 
and  became  radiant  when  Ba  Kiaotsi  diagnosed  her 
complaint  as  non-serious.  They  thanked  her  most 
effusively,  and  clung  affectionately  to  her  as  she  said 
good-bye,  and  extended  their  gratitude  even  to  me. 
“ Walk  slowly,”  they  said,  “ Sit  slowly,”  said  we,  and 
left  as  honoured  guests.  It  was,  therefore,  rather 
a shock  to  me  to  see  the  family  altar  all  ablaze  with 
candles  and  incense  on  our  way  out,  and  to  be  told 
(afterwards)  that  it  was  done  in  self-defence,  to 
combat  any  evil  influences  we  might  have  left 
behind. 

As  we  retraced  our  steps  through  the  city  we  came 
to  a little  lakelet  enclosed  by  the  walls  of  houses, 
silent  and  peaceful,  nestling  in  this  secluded  out-of- 
the-way  corner.  But  the  stillness  was  the  silence  of 
death. 

It  was  getting  dark,  and  even  as  we  passed  in  the 
shadow  a crouching  figure  moved  forward  close  to 
the  wall,  and  slipped  away  again  when  she  saw  she 
was  not  alone. 

It  is  said  they  come  to  this  silent  pool  to  drown 

3*8 


OUR  BOAT  ON  THE  TSIEN  TANG  RIVER  A TAII.OR  IN  BA  Kl  ' 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  poor  girl-babies  who  arc  not  wanted.  Some- 
times it  is  only  a case  of  burial,  but  at  others — 
and  one  thought  of  Victor  Hugo’s  words  in  Les 
Miser  able  s : — 

“ Est-ce  qu’ils  etaient  touts  morts  ? 

On  dit  que  non.” 

But  to  turn  to  more  cheerful  subjects. 

We  have  been  investing  in  some  Chinese  coats 
made  by  an  excellent  Lanchi  tailor.  He  worked 
here  at  the  house,  provided  his  own  food,  and  charged 
fivepence  a day.  An  astute  observer  of  the  Chinese 
says  that  they  seem  to  be  able  to  do  almost  every- 
thing by  means  of  almost  nothing.  All  I got  for  my 
tailor  was  a length  of  silk.  He  arrived  with  his  paste- 
pot,  his  iron,  his  needle  and  thread,  and  his  “ grey 
mouse  ” — in  other  words,  a tiny  bag  the  size  of  a 
mouse  filled  with  chalk,  through  which  a little  cord 
is  drawn,  in  order  to  mark  out  seams  to  be  cut.  In 
true  contrariwise  fashion,  Chinese  tailors  chalk  the 
table  and  not  the  material,  and  place  the  latter  in 
the  chalked-out  divisions.  Their  accurate  calculations, 
resulting  in  great  economy  of  cloth,  would  be  a lesson 
to  many  a cutter-out  in  Western  lands.  Finally, 
after  about  three  days’  work,  behold  a dainty  garment 
complete  in  every  detail — the  buttons,  cords,  braided 
trimming,  etc.,  etc.,  have  all  been  evolved  from  the 
one  length  of  silk  plus  the  paste-pot  and  the  iron  and 
Chinese  ingenuity. 

As  we  went  back  to  our  boat,  moored  amidst 

319 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  bamboo  rafts  at  the  foot  of  the  wooden  steps, 
an  intelligent-looking  man  stopped  Ba  Kiaotsi  to 
ask  a question  concerning  these  two  strange  foreign 
ladies. 

“ Do  those  feathers  ” (they  were  really  quills) 
“in  their  hats  mean  that  they  have  official  degrees  ?” 
he  asked  ; “ and  which  is  the  highest  rank,  the  blue 
or  the  white  ? ” 

After  all,  the  question  was  not  so  absurd  in  a 
country  where  different-coloured  buttons  worn  on 
the  caps  show  the  rank  of  the  wearer  and  a peacock’s 
feather  is  one  of  the  highest  honours. 

Close  to  the  landing-stage  a small  wooden  house 
had  just  been  erected  for  the  reception  of  the  dead 
body  of  one  of  Ba  Kiaotsi’s  neighbours.  He  was  the 
prosperous  owner  of  a cracker  shop  and  had  died 
suddenly  on  a boat  coming  up  from  Hangcheo. 
This  had  meant  enormous  expense  to  the  bereaved 
family.  First  the  boatmen  had  been  heavily  com- 
pensated ; they  could  expect  no  more  passengers 
that  year,  after  a death  on  their  boat  ; and  then  this 
temporary  abode  for  the  coffin  had  had  to  be  built, 
as  it  is  unlucky  in  the  highest  degree  to  take  a corpse 
into  a house,  and  no  city  will  allow  one  to  be  brought 
within  its  gates. 

As  we  drifted  down  river  our  last  sight  of  Lanchi 
was  of  the  cracker-maker’s  mortuary  chapel  and  Ba 
Kiaotsi  standing  waving  a farewell  on  the  top  of 
the  steps,  whilst  the  cook  and  the  teacher  and  the 
table  boy  stood  like  solemn  sphinxes  eyeing  the 

320 


China  as  I Saw  It 


departing  guests.  The  sun  was  out  in  all  its 
splendour,  the  silver-spangled  river  dipped  down 
between  green  hills  shaded  by  spreading  camphor 
trees,  but  the  tops  of  the  mountains  were  wreathed 
in  snow. 


i 


Y 


321 


Shanghai, 

February , 1909. 

New  Year’s  Day,  January  the  twenty-third,  found 
us  back  in  Shanghai.  The  native  city  is  like  a 
disturbed  ant-heap.  A recent  snowfall  has  made 
everyone  happy,  for  snow  at  this  season  is  looked 
upon  as  an  omen  of  good  fortune  in  the  coming 
year.  At  the  temple  of  the  city  god  those  who  can 
afford  to  do  so  are  making  supreme  efforts  to  secure 
the  favour  of  the  hidden  powers.  They  have  brought 
with  them  long  strings  of  silver  money  and  bunches 
of  red  candles.  The  gogs  and  magogs  of  painted 
wood  guarding  the  doors  have  their  share  of  the  spoil. 
Great  bonfires  of  the  tinfoil  “ silver  ” are  burning 
fiercely  in  front  of  them,  and  first  one  worshipper  and 
then  another  steps  forward  hastily,  flinging  new 
strings  of  this  strange  coinage  on  the  burning  pile, 
and  as  the  flames  leap  up,  licking  in  this  fresh  fuel, 
the  donor  turns  away  with  a sense  of  relief.  He  has 
not  only  propitiated  the  god  of  his  city,  but  also 
squared  his  attendants  down  in  Hades,  and  by  so 
doing  has  doubtless  been  of  assistance  to  the  spirits 
of  his  deceased  relatives,  and  saved  them  maybe 

322 


China  as  I Saw  It 

from  the  merciless  hands  of  the  phantom  Yamen 
runners. 

The  interior  of  the  temple,  usually  dark  and  de- 
serted, is  ablaze  with  candles,  the  air  heavy  with 
incense  ; the  crowd  is  surging  back  and  forth  and 
there  is  hardly  room  to  stand.  Portly  citizens  in 
rich  furs  and  costly  brocades  are  “ ko  teo-ing  ” many 
times  in  succession  before  the  brilliantly  lighted 
altar,  praying  probably  for  sons  and  riches,  long  life 
and  honour,  and  one  after  another  shakes  a bamboo 
box  full  of  wooden  labels  until  one  jumps  out  from 
amongst  the  rest.  This  is  then  carried  to  a priest, 
who  sits  behind  a tiny  counter  in  the  shadow  near  by. 
In  exchange  for  it  he  hands  back  a yellow  slip  of 
paper,  on  which  is  shadowed  forth  in  mystical  language 
the  luck  or  ill-luck  of  the  coming  year.  A young 
man  resplendent  in  superb  silk  garments  had  just 
tried  his  fate  as  we  approached.  He  read  down  the 
slip  of  paper  and  his  face  fell. 

“ Good  or  not  good  ? ” we  asked. 

“ Not  good,”  he  answered,  and  taking  up  the 
bamboo  box  once  more,  he  tried  his  luck  again. 

Out  in  the  courts  of  the  temple  the  crowd  waxed 
thicker  than  ever,  and  in  every  nook  and  corner 
gambling  in  some  form  or  other  was  going  on.  A 
fortune-teller  with  his  bird  pursued  a thriving  trade. 
We  watched  them  with  amusement.  A slim  little 
canary,  with  a sagacious  tilt  of  the  head,  eyed  his 
master’s  client  knowingly,  then  hopped  down  the 
table,  picked  out  a slip  of  paper  from  the  pack,  and 

323 


China  as  I Saw  It 


was  rewarded  by  the  present  of  a seed,  whilst  the 
enigmatical  sentence  inscribed  upon  the  paper  was 
listened  to  as  the  voice  of  the  gods. 

A devout  Chinese  will  sometimes  keep  a “ moral 
account  book.”  There  is  a volume  called  The  Rules 
of  Merit  and  Transgression , in  which  the  commercial 
value  of  deeds  is  given.  For  instance  : To  pay  the 
debts  of  a father  counts  ten  to  the  good.  To  worship 
at  his  burial  fifty.  And  to  bury  a bird  or  lend  an 
umbrella  one.  On  the  other  hand,  to  love  a wife 
more  than  a father  or  mother  takes  off  a hundred, 
and  to  dig  up  a worm  in  winter  cancels  the  burying 
of  a bird. 

On  New  Year’s  Day,  when  China  puts  on  its  best 
clothes  and  goes  round  to  “ pai  nien,”  * it  is  pre- 
sumed that  there  are  some  of  the  household  who 
stay  at  home  to  receive.  I believe  in  most  cases  the 
ladies  of  the  family  do  not  pay  their  own  calls  until 
the  fourth  or  fifth  day  of  the  New  Year.  I went  to 
Kay’s  rooms  to  assist  in  dispensing  tea  and  confec- 
tionery to  her  guests,  and  found  every  chair  and  sofa 
occupied  by  silent,  well-dressed  Chinese,  with  solemn, 
dignified  manners.  It  seemed  to  me  that  some  of 
their  faces  were  strangely  familiar.  They  sat  sipping 
their  tea,  joining  now  and  again  in  the  conversation 
with  perfect  ease  of  manner.  At  last  one  made  a 
move,  and  bowing  low,  with  many  polite  expressions 
one  after  another,  bade  a courteous  farewell.  During 

* Pay  New  Year  calls. 

324 


China  as  I Saw  It 


the  course  of  the  morning  I met  some  of  them  again, 
but  they  had  doffed  their  silk  gowns  and  were  en- 
gaged in  household  duties,  and  our  dignified  guests 
were,  of  course,  the  servants  of  the  house,  who  had 
been  doing  the  correct  thing  in  paying  New  Year 
calls  upon  us  dressed  in  their  best  clothes,  some  of 
which  probably  had  been  hired  or  borrowed  for  the 
occasion ! 

A few  days  later  there  was  a return  of  civilities 
on  the  part  of  the  heads  of  the  household,  in  the  form 
of  the  Chinese  equivalent  of  a tenants’  ball — a New 
Year’s  feast,  to  which  fifty-three  people  were  in- 
vited. The  “ tsing  ! tsing  ! tsing  ! ” * with  which 
each  one  invites  his  neighbour  to  start  eating  always 
reminds  me  of  the  clucking  preparatory  to  a meal  in 
a poultry  yard,  and  when  once  the  business  of  eating 
has  commenced,  the  ensuing  silence  is  also  reminiscent 
of  our  feathered  friends. 

This,  however,  is  hardly  fair  on  our  dignified 
guests,  who  are  always  willing  to  transfer  the  most 
succulent  morsels  to  their  neighbours’  mouths,  and 
“ Tsing  ! tsing  ! tsing  ! ” before  dipping  their  own 
chop-sticks  into  a fresh  dish. 

And  this,  I fear,  will  be  my  last  Chinese  meal, 
not  that  I have  ever  acquired  a taste  for  the  flavour 
of  squashed  lady-birds  and  mouse-traps,  but  my 
interest  in  the  people  themselves  has  increased  steadily. 
I suppose  I have  fallen  under  that  magnetic  spell 

* “ Please  ! please  ! please  ! ” 

325 


V 2 


China  as  I Saw  It 


which  has  influenced,  either  with  or  against  their 
will,  so  many  foreign  residents  in  China. 


Was  it  not  Bacon  who  said  : “ Since  things  alter 
for  the  worse  spontaneously,  if  they  be  not  altered 
for  the  better  designedly,  what  end  will  there  be  of 
evil  ? ” 

At  last  there  are  signs  that  things  in  China  are 
being  altered  for  the  better  designedly.  There  was  a 
time,  and  only  a few  years  ago,  when  the  Western 
nations  gathered  round  the  prostrate  form  of  their 
Celestial  neighbour  and  talked  of  his  approaching 
end.  “ The  decay  of  China,”  “ the  break-up  of 
China,”  “ the  last  days  of  Peking  ” — words  such  as 
these  rang  forth  through  the  world.  Like  Mother 
Hubbard  in  the  nursery  rhyme, 

“ They  went  out  to  buy  him  a coffin, 

And  when  they  came  back 
They  found  him  a-laughin’.” 

And  now  they  pitch  their  tune  to  a totally  different 
key,  and  write  of  the  “ uplift  ” and  “ the  awaken- 
ing ” of  China,  and  quote  a far-seeing  author  of 
fifty  years  ago,  who,  speaking  of  the  Chinese  and  the 
old  Egyptians,  pointed  out  that  they  had  survived 
the  Egyptians,  survived  the  Persians,  survived  the 
Greeks,  survived  the  Romans,  and  were  still  there, 
possessing  “ as  much  youth  and  vitality  in  them  as 
the  youngest  of  young  nations.” 

326 


China  as  I Saw  It 


1 have  been  looking  back  over  my  travels  through 
the  country,  and  thinking  of  the  material  which  will 
go  to  make  one  of  “ three  surviving  nations  of  the 
future  ” — the  untiring  energy  and  skill  of  the  men 
who  have  navigated  the  waters  of  the  Upper  Yangtse 
through  many  centuries,  undismayed  by  difficulties  and 
dangers ; the  physical  vitality  which  enables  them  to 
live  and  thrive  in  any  climate,  and  in  “ neglect  of  most 
hygienic  laws  ” ; the  patience  and  perseverance  of  the 
gold-seekers  on  the  rock-strewn  shores  of  the  river ; the 
pluck  and  zeal  of  the  scholars  in  the  new  Government 
schools,  who,  at  the  age  of  forty  years  and  over,  have  set 
themselves  to  master  a Western  education ; the  cheer- 
fulness of  the  coolies,  who  spend  their  lives  in  one 
incessant  trot,  weighted  down  by  burdens ; the  “ gift 
of  common  sense  ” with  which,  according  to  Sir 
Robert  Hart,  the  Chinese  are  so  richly  endowed ; 
the  intellectual  and  financial  ability,  the  thrift  and 
economy  out-rivalling  even  that  of  the  Jews  ; the 
“ talent  for  industry  pervading  all  classes.” 

But  now  comes  the  rift  in  the  lute.  Whilst  her 
leading  statesmen  say,  “ China  needs  armies,  navies, 
arsenals ; and  the  Westerners  add,  currency,  rail- 
ways, and  scientific  instruction,”  there  is  still  another 
and  deeper  side  to  the  question.  I am  quoting  the 
author  of  Chinese  Characteristics.  “ China’s  needs 
are  few,  they  are  character  and  conscience  ; nay, 
they  are  but  one,  for  character  is  conscience.” 

But  I must  not  “ moralise  ” further. 

We  go  on  board  the  steamer  to-day,  and  a 

327 


China  as  I Saw  It 

coolie,  with  his  wheelbarrow,  is  waiting  for  the 
luggage. 

To  quote  the  closing  phrase  in  “Glory  Flower’s” 
last  letter  : “ Other  words  again  discuss,”  and  for 
the  last  time,  with  Chinese  brush  on  Chinese  shores, 
I sign  myself 


328 


INDEX 


Barbers,  Chinese,  21 1,  290 

Beggars,  in  China,  127,  137, 
148,  225 

Belgian -Chinese  Railway,  80, 
248 

Brides,  Chinese,  62,  216 

Brigands,  209 

Carts  in  North  China,  64,  272, 
274 

Chefoo,  18,  237 

— Naval  College  at,  244 

Chekiang  Railway,  305 

Chinese  vitality,  91 

— thrift,  134,  153 

— patience  and  perseverance, 
201,  327 

— cheerfulness,  138,  142 

— industry,  97,  152 

— imperturbability,  119,  135 

— recklessness,  117,  235 

— excitability,  122,  173,  237, 
299 

— callousness  in  face  of  death, 
68 

— indifference  of  pain,  92 

— politeness,  262 

— ingenuity,  276 


Chinese  disregard  of  comfort, 
4,  35,  99,  259,  275 
Ch’ong  King,  144-147 

beggar  refuge  at,  149 

parade  ground,  152 

wedding  at,  216 

Coal,  47,  284 

Coffins,  35,  94,  152,  169,  230, 
3i5,  320 
Coinage,  223 
Cooking,  talent  for,  202 
Custom,  a strange,  209 

Dalai  Lama,  279 
Dentists,  in  China,  312,  315 
Dowager  Empress,  reminis- 
cences of,  263,  264 
death  of,  289 

Ear  purses,  268 
Engineers,  Chinese,  227 
Emperor  of  China,  death  of, 
288 

Etiquette,  5,  26,  128,  157,  260, 
262,  325 

Examination  cells,  180 
Fans,  237 


Index 


Feng-Tu,  passport  for  Hades, 
142 

Fortune  teller,  323 
Fruit,  27,  119,  121,  243 

“Gai-tsi,”  135 
Gankin,  229 
Gambling,  177 
Gold  seekers,  139 

— to  swallow,  127 
Grand  Canal,  302,  304 

Hangcheo,  307 

— western  lake  at,  308 
Hankow,  36,  89,  94,  98 
Hanyang,  88 

House-boat  on  the  Yangtse, 
108 

Hsii-keo,  a dinner  at,  278 
Huai-Luh,  251 

Ichang,  too,  101 
Idols,  282,  298 

Inns,  53,  54,  r6i,  250,  275, 
287 

Kiang  Tsin,  212 
Kialing  river,  150,  159 
Kiating,  203 

Kingfisher  feather  ornaments, 
207 

Kuan  Hsien,  192 

irrigation  works  at,  193- 

195 

rope  bridge  at,  195 


Kuei  Fu,  126 
palace  at,  128 

Lanchi,  2^-321 
Language,  21-23 
Legends,  143,  168,  225 
Letter,  a Chinese,  241 
Li  Ping,  193 

Medical  remedies,  294,  310, 
31 1 

Memorial  arches,  65,  159 
Military  display,  85 

— escort,  166 
Militia  men,  163 
Min  river,  201 

Mission  work,  15,  75,  137,  233, 
253 

Money  for  the  dead,  14,  38,  322 
Mourning  for  the  dead,  33,  42, 
231 

Nanking,  294 

— Manchu  city  at,  295 

— Ming  tomb  at,  296 

Official,  an  energetic,  149 
Opium,  150 

— den,  102-104 

Pawnshops,  281 
Peking,  61-67 

— Forbidden  City  at,  66 

— Temple  of  Heaven  at,  69-7 1 

— Lama  Temple,  73 


33° 


Index 


Peking,  Bell  Temple,  77 
Pigeons,  281 
Pigs  in  shoes,  159 
Ping  Yao,  280-283 
Points  of  the  compass,  use  of, 
253 

Power  of  the  people,  154 
Punishments,  68,  106,  107,  230, 

258 

Pu  Yi  (Hsiian  Tung,  the  new 
Emperor),  290 

Queues,  238 

Restaurants,  29,  101 
Roads,  158,  231,  275 
Rules  of  the  road,  160,  286 

Salt  wells,  167 
Scissor  grinders,  239 
Schools,  43,  44,  90,  91,  182, 
205,  243,  257,  306 
Servants,  190,  198,  199,  265 
Silver  shoes,  105 
Shadow  show,  188 
Shanghai,  1-3,  236.  322 
— native  city  of,  9-1 1 
Shi  Kia  Chuang,  249 
Shops  and  shopping,  10,  65, 
87,  88,  96,  ioi,  137,  183, 
203,  222 


Sugar  factory,  170 
I Superstitions,  11,13,  28,  37,  47, 
54.  93.  i°3.  no,  M3.  146, 
147,  152,  171.  184,  186,  254, 
289,  308,  320 
j Surgeons,  Chinese,  310 
| Surnames,  Chinese,  30 

Tailor’s  God,  168 
Teng-Cheo-Fu,  31-33 
— Confucian  temple  at,  45 
Tientsin,  60 
Thibetans,  204 
; Trackers,  101,  116 
Tsien  Tang  River,  312 
| Tsingtau,  17 

Visit,  a strange,  34 

j 'Vanhsien,  1 35-137 
Wedding  processions,  61,  164 
Woo  Chang,  90 

Yangtse  River,  no 

— Tong  Lin  rapid,  115 

— Chin  rapid,  1 19 

— Wu  Shan  gorge,  122 

— Wind-Box  gorge,  125 

— Shi  Pao  temple,  229 
Yang  Cheo,  299-301 


y 

X 


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PLYMOUTH 


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China  as  I saw  it : a woman's  letters 


Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


